


Nature

by foryouandbits



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU - Circus, Angst, Anxiety, Canon typical alcohol use, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I'm not kidding about the angst, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Slow Burn, bereavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17650841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryouandbits/pseuds/foryouandbits
Summary: Following the death of his roommate and the subsequent closing of the Atlanta Flying Circus, aerialist and dancer Eric Bittle is lost: he has no job, no family, and no safety net. He's only able to find employment at the Samwell Circus Troupe in Boston, all the way across the country. With no money and nothing left to lose, Eric leaves Georgia behind in search of success, companionship, happiness, and, if he's lucky, even love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to this chapter specifically, the angst starts right away but I promise the story gets less angsty and more fun as time goes on - this is really the worst of it. Stick with me!

Eric Bittle stood in the corner of the living room as the mountain of assembled boxes gathered around him. It had been very kind of Brad and Tristan to scour the neighborhood for boxes he could use, but their success resulted in a maze of brown cardboard in the already small apartment. This was like grade school, back in those days when he and his classmates would be instructed to build forts as tall as the trees, a pretend place to keep them safe until one of the more rambunctious students inevitably toppled the boxes to the ground. This wasn't a fort and it wasn't school. This was his life, and he was buried in the corner just like how Shannon would be buried in the ground in under twenty-four hours.

He could feel the unproductive rise and fall of his chest as Brad ripped another loud strip of packing tape, building another block, sealing Eric in even further. He wanted to work his way out, to find the courage to knock them all down and retreat into his bedroom where he knew there was space, but instead his fingers found the gritty texture of the wall and he pushed hard against it with the fleeting hope that it would yield. It did not. Brad placed another box on top of the pile and Eric's eyes rose to watch it balance precariously in front of him.

"I think that's all of them," Brad's voice said from the other side of the wall. "You still in there, Eric?"

Words failed Eric before he cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice shaky but present: "Yeah."

"Do you think this is enough? It looks like enough. Did you want us to help you start packing or —"

"No," said Eric firmly. "No, her parents want to do it. Thanks."

"No worries, man. Do you want to move them into her room so there's space for the reception tomorrow? Or you can leave them and we can just keep people in my and Jo's apartments. I don't know who all's coming but it sounds like we don't need to let people in here if you don't want."

"No, her family should be able to come in here if they want," said Eric, and he hesitated as he began to silently count the boxes Brad had piled in front of him. There were too many and both of Shannon's parents would be sleeping in her room. "Let's put them in my room." A pair of hands appeared and removed the newest addition from the top of the stack. Eric looked to both sides — there was room, if he squeezed, to get by without knocking anything over. He pressed his body against the wall and scooted out. Once in an aisle he met Brad's eyes for the first time; Brad, one of the newer aerialists in their troupe, had only been living next door with his brother Tristan for a few weeks when it happened. Shannon had been very welcoming to both of them, but Shannon had always been a very welcoming person. It was because of Shannon that Eric knew Brad at all, and over the last few days Eric had been very grateful for that.

Brad's expression was expected — sympathetically condescending. Eric turned away and picked up a box so he didn't have to look at it any longer. He led Brad into his bedroom and placed the box in the far corner. Five minutes later Eric shut the door on the mess.

"Can I do anything else?" Brad asked just as Eric's phone vibrated in his pocket. Eric pulled it out.

      **Jessie**  
     We'll be there in an hour. Did you eat yet?

"No, they'll be here soon," said Eric. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. We're just next door if you need anything," said Brad, who did not move. "Are you sure you don't want us to make anything? Or buy something? Did you start cooking yet?"

"I'm starting now," said Eric.

"We can cook too. Well, Tristan can cook too."

"No, I've got it." Eric walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Thanks for your help, Brad. You and Tristan."

"We're here if you need us."

"Thank you," said Eric again. Brad still didn't leave. Eric placed several ingredients on the counter for the first casserole. He looked over his shoulder. "I'm fine, Brad."

"Okay. See you tomorrow." Brad slowly walked to the door; Eric turned away from him and pulled a skillet from inside a cabinet. Once he heard the door open and shut again he paused, took hold of the counter beneath him, and closed his eyes. The mess was gone, which helped, but the silence in the apartment just reminded him of the silence in the studio after it happened. He turned on music before he began cooking.

Dinner was ready and another casserole was in the oven when the buzzer sounded. Eric, up to his elbows in pork and breadcrumbs, let out a muted squeal of panic. He removed his hands from the bowl in front of him and ran across the living room to the buzzer. He pressed his elbow into the button labeled DOOR and then ran back to the kitchen to wash his hands. By the time they were clean and no longer greasy, Shannon's parents entered the apartment.

"Eric!" said Jessie with a failed attempt at a smile. Eric ran over to her and swooped her into a hug. Jessie, like Shannon, was small and slender with vibrant red hair, but Shannon's father Mark was large and imposing, at least six feet tall, built like a brick house, and wider at the shoulders than anywhere else. When Eric let go of Jessie, Mark patted Eric on the back twice with enough force to cause Eric to plant his feet rather than be knocked over. It was a big improvement from their first meeting, when Mark walked in on Eric unzipping Shannon's dress and threatened to drop kick him into next Tuesday until Shannon intervened.

"Come on in," Eric said. "I have chili ready unless you want to wait for the tater tot casserole or the meatballs. I'll put this in Shannon's…" Eric stopped, his hand on Jessie's oversized suitcase. Five days. He'd made it just over five days without saying her name. Jessie let out an audible gasp behind him and he closed his eyes, just for a moment, before he picked up the suitcase in one hand and silently crossed the living room with it. He opened the door to Shannon's room and stared at the floor as he set the suitcase down. As soon as it was out of his hand he retreated and returned to the kitchen where he put his hands in the meatball mixture again. He'd rolled two before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up; Mark looked back at him with gentle eyes.

"Thanks for hosting us, Eric," he said.

"Oh, no problem at all," said Eric. "How was your drive?"

"Very long. Glad to be out of the car. She never liked the drive, you know. Never wanted to visit us after we moved out to Colorado. She had enough family here, I suppose. Had you to keep her company."

"She had a lot of friends."

"Never shut up about you," said Mark. "Took me two years to believe you weren't actually dating."

"Gay, Mark. Gay," said Eric with sort of a smile.

"Yeah, but I could tell you loved her, and a dad sometimes can't tell the difference between love. Sorry for threatening you."

"No, it's okay. Sorry for…"

Eric never said what he was sorry for. He let his voice disappear and looked back at the meat clinging to his hands. They were a mess again, a coating of pork and fat over the expanse of his palms. He rubbed his thumb over his fingers and the friction felt disgusting, like his hands would never operate the same way again. He could feel it under his nails and in between his fingers, in the divots of his knuckles. It was everywhere and he'd incapacitated himself just as the timer on the oven's backsplash counted down from three to two to one.

"Oh no!" said Eric.

"I've got it," said Mark. He opened the oven door and a woosh of comforting heat hit the right side of Eric's body; it was so cold in the apartment now that winter had begun. Mark took hold of the glass casserole dish with a hand towel and set it on the range in between the burners. When he closed the oven door it snapped shut with a clang that rattled each of the racks inside, a reverberation that Eric could feel in his bones.

"Thank you," said Eric. "You two should eat."

"Are you going to join us?" Mark asked.

"Let me just finish these meatballs," said Eric and he scooped up a ball in his hand despite the unpleasant residue it left behind. Mark served he and his wife a bowl of chili, which they ate at the small kitchen table while Eric assembled enough meatballs to serve the whole apartment building. He'd just finished when Jessie placed the bowls in the sink and turned on the water.

"Don't you worry about those, I've got it," said Eric. "I know you're tired."

"You've got all this food to make. I can do some dishes," said Jessie. Eric looked to Mark for help, who ushered her out of the kitchen and to the bedroom. It was still fairly early in the evening but within minutes the door shut and the light disappeared. Eric washed his hands and the rest of the dishes before he placed the meatballs in the oven to cook.

Sauce was next, which Eric didn't need to make from scratch but he had the tomatoes from Jo's garden. With Shannon's parents asleep in the bedroom he had to be as quiet as possible, which meant less use of the blender and more dicing and smashing by hand, but by midnight the sauce was done and he could finally start on dessert. He could kick himself for letting them go to bed without at least offering a slice of something, but all he had was leftover pecan pie from the first day he'd been alone, and it wasn't fresh any longer. After he put together what seemed like an acceptable amount of crust and set them in the refrigerator to chill, he sat down at the kitchen table and began peeling all of the Granny Smith apples in the bag. The pies were assembled, and then baked, and then, just as he opened another bag of flour to dust the counter, the door to Shannon's room opened.

Eric turned quickly, ready to apologize for making too much noise, when he saw the sunlight that poured into the living room from the large windows to the east. His eyes flickered to the microwave, the only display in the kitchen that didn't have a timer set on it. Eight o'clock. Eric had no idea when he started cooking.

"Eric, sweetheart, you're not still cooking, are you?" asked Jessie quietly as she shut the door behind her. Eric found it best not to verbally reply as he didn't want to lie to Shannon's mother. "It's going to be a long day. You should get some sleep at least before we have to leave."

"I'll be fine," said Eric. "Did you want breakfast? I have a fair amount of eggs left over. I was going to make a few quiches but time just got away from me."

"I'll just put on some coffee," said Jessie. "Did you want to get in the shower first?"

"You two can get ready first. I just want to finish up the rest of this and clean the kitchen before we go."

"I can help —" Eric waved her assistance away, already at the sink with running water over the mixing bowls he'd piled there during the course of the night. Jessie didn't say anything further to him; she brewed the coffee and wandered away when it finished. Eric heard the shower turn on a moment later, so he shut off the water and cleaned up the counters. He still didn't feel like he had enough food, but there was no more time for anything else to be made. Once Shannon's parents were out of the bathroom he had only an hour to get ready himself, and the weight of the evening was starting to catch up with him. He poured himself a cup of coffee before he swept the floor.

Mark and Jessie retreated into Shannon's room, leaving the bathroom free. Eric brought his suit with him, hoping the steam would remove at least some of the wrinkles, and turned on the water. The apartment was old and drafty, but the water was always warm. He stripped and stepped under it, relaxing for the first time since the mollycoddling from Shannon's friends began. It was hot but soothing under the spray from the shower, a safe feeling that Eric never wanted to leave. Six days now since it happened and he hadn't felt safe since. It didn't matter that his feet were firmly planted on the ground, or that there was no threat there in the apartment that had been his home since he ran away from his at the age of sixteen. Nothing was the same with Shannon's presence looming everywhere, even there in the shower. Her collection of mostly-empty-but-not-quite body washes and shampoos were stuffed haphazardly into the corner, none of them actually useable. Everything was a different scent. Eric reached out and picked up his favorite one, a jar of body butter that smelled like chocolate cupcakes. It retained its smell even though most of it was gone. He held it to his nose and inhaled deeply; there it was, the scent of her, lingering even then, the day that she would be buried under the ground, never to smell like cupcakes or strawberries or vanilla ever again.

He burst into tears all at once, unable to stop the narrowing of his eyes or the droop of his lips. He set down the body butter with a clatter onto the shelf and put both of his hands over his mouth to hide the sound. The shower was still on but the apartment was small, and Shannon's room shared a wall with the bathroom. They'd be able to hear him if he made a sound and they couldn't know he'd resorted to this, thinking of her scent in the shower and hating himself for crying about it.

 

***

 

Shannon's grandparents on her mother's side were the last to leave. They lingered in the kitchen with Jessie, placing plastic wrap over yet another casserole dish at a pace far too slow for anyone who wasn't deliberately stalling. The kitchen was clean, the leftovers were put away, and there was nothing left to do but sit and mourn together, but Jessie clearly wanted them to go. When Shannon's grandmother couldn't smooth out plastic any longer, Mark took the dish from her.

The food situation was out of control. Almost everyone brought something to pass at the reception despite Eric specifically asking that no one bring food, and as a result Mark couldn't stuff the pan inside the refrigerator, no matter what he rearranged. "I'll take it next door," said Eric. He left the apartment quickly, feeling the tension that had been escalating between Jessie and her mother for the better part of the last hour, and opened the door to Brad and Tristan's apartment.

"Do y'all have room for this?" Eric asked. Tristan sat on the couch in front of the television as if it were on, but it was not. He looked over.

"Oh, yeah. I think we still have some room. Is everyone gone?"

"Jessie's parents are still here and I'm slightly worried they'll never leave," said Eric. He opened the refrigerator; this one was mostly full as well but he relocated the beer to the door and then shoved it inside.

"Well, you know how it is," said Tristan. "Once everybody's gone you actually have to think about what happened. Do you want to chill here for a while until they leave?"

Eric shook his head. "Nah, I should get back over there. Thanks for helping, Tristan."

"No problem. Let me know if you need anything — we've got food."

"I've got all of the food," said Eric. He left the apartment and returned to his only to see Jessie slam her hands onto the counter and proceed to shout at her mother.

"You don't know what this is like, Mom! All of your children are still alive!"

Eric quickly retreated to Tristan's apartment and stayed there until two o'clock when he heard Jessie's parents leave. He slowly opened the door to his apartment and peered inside. Jessie was on the couch, her head in her hands, and Mark stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder. Mark looked over when Eric returned.

"We're going to start packing up and then head out. You said you had boxes, right?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, they're in my room," said Eric. He and Mark began stacking a few in Shannon's room while Jessie sorted through the rest of the apartment. Everything in the living room had Shannon's influence on it, from the floral coasters to the purple bins where they kept magazines and mail. Eric hated looking at all of it, but Jessie had no reason to take it.

"What about this?" Jessie asked. She picked up a tie blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. One side was white and the other red and patterned with the University of Georgia logo. It was getting old, some of the ties coming loose and some of the pattern faded at the edges. Eric wordlessly took it from her and held it in his arms. It had been cold the day Shannon came home from the store with two large squares of fabric and a bottle of wine, and they plopped onto the couch to make it together, taking hours to tie each of the knots along the sides. A new director had been hired to their show and made a lot of changes that neither of them had agreed with, so they made their blanket and complained about him. As they grew more drunk and more giggly the knots grew more uneven, which Eric assumed were the knots that had now unraveled. He touched two strips that he could retie and then, just as suddenly as he'd remembered her on the couch on that day, he burst into tears in front of her parents.

"Eric," said Jessie and she wrapped her arms around him. His whole body shook as Jessie held him tightly, hot tears falling out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Eric thickly.

"No, Eric, it's okay. You can grieve."

"What am I going to do without her?" Eric said into Jessie's shoulder. "I don't have anybody else."

"Come to Colorado with us. Mark's always complaining about being understaffed at the plant," said Jessie.

Eric didn't know how to say no, but Jessie knew his answer when she offered it. She wiped his face and pushed the blanket on him before she stepped away to joined Mark in the bedroom. Eric gripped tightly to it and entered his own room, where he lay atop his bed. He pulled his stuffed rabbit from underneath a pillow and held it close, then finally closed his eyes.

 

***

 

Shannon's parents left early the next morning. Eric said goodbye to them and then sat on his bed, his back against the wall, staring at the stuffed rabbit that lay face-down on his desk. Senor Bunny was one of the few possessions Eric brought with him from home, and while it provided comfort on most nights, its presence just made Eric think about what he'd left behind. Days when Senor Bunny was too hard to look at, Eric usually turned to Shannon. Eric pulled the tie blanket off his shoulders and threw it onto the bed before he stomped out of the room, but there was no escape from her in the apartment. Jessie and Mark had taken her personal possessions but had no need to take things Eric could use, and Shannon had purchased most of the decor in their apartment. Jessie and Mark had purchased the couch and recliner for her and left them behind for Eric to keep at no charge. It was a very kind gesture, but in that moment Eric wanted nothing to do with any of it.

He changed into workout clothes and picked up his practice bag. He hadn't even attempted to go back to the studio to practice or to the auditorium for a show since it happened. Apart from Brad and Tristan, and also Jo and Megan across the hall, he hadn't spoken to anyone from the troupe since it happened, but it had been long enough since he'd been in the air. The studio was just three blocks away so he ran there through the chilly weather and pulled at the door to open it.

It didn't open. Eric pulled again. Nothing happened. There were other entrances on the side and in the back, so he tried both of those. Neither of them opened. It was ten o'clock in the morning on a Sunday, much later than he normally began practice but much too early to close for the day. He returned to the front of the building but there were no signs explaining the locked doors, so he pulled out his phone and called his boss, who did not answer.

"This is ridiculous," muttered Eric. He returned to the apartment only to put his practice bag on the floor before he knocked on Brad and Tristan's door. Brad opened it.

"Have you gone to the studio lately?" Eric asked.

"Oh," said Brad. He broke eye contact quickly. "They didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The company. They shut it down. Something about safety protocols and equipment failing inspection."

Eric felt his heart sink in his chest and his bones begin to shake; he should have bundled up more before running in the cold. He walked right by Brad and sat down on the couch. Brad closed the door and sat with him.

"They should have told you," said Brad. "You can come job hunting with me. Tristan got hired as a waiter at the Applebee's down the street but I've never been a people person so I've been looking for office jobs you can get with just a high school diploma."

"What about jobs without a high school diploma?" Eric asked.

"You might want to go Tristan's route."

Eric looked ahead and stared at the television without really seeing what it displayed. He didn't know how to do anything but fly. He didn't want to do anything except fly. He looked back at Brad. "So you're not going to try to get with another troupe?"

"There's nothing else in Atlanta," said Brad.

"There's got to be something," said Eric.

"Maybe gig work, but it's not reliable. I've got rent to pay."

"I'm sure there's something."

There wasn't. There were a few gig openings for the local rent-a-performer companies, but the demand for aerialists were few and far between. There wasn't another full-time circus troupe in Atlanta, otherwise Eric would have heard about them already. On a whim, he checked the Cirque Du Soleil site, but as always he reviewed the qualifications and clicked away from the page,knowing there was no way he'd get an audition.

He pulled Shannon's blanket over his shoulders and snuggled into the corner of his bed against the wall. This is what it had come to: dropping out of school at the age of sixteen, leaving home with nothing more than a duffel bag, giving up his family and his life to soar on silk for three brief years until nothing was left of the pipe dream he'd called the Atlanta Flying Circus. Shannon was dead, the circus was over, and he had enough money to make it one more month before he was out on the streets.

His hands gripped Senor Bunny tight against his chest as his eyes drifted to the phone on his nightstand. His parents still paid his phone bill, despite their absolute silence since his departure. Their numbers were still in his contacts. He could tuck his tail between his legs and say, "I'm sorry, I'm ready to come home now," but he remembered the look on his parents' faces when he said he wanted to quit school. He remembered how his mother tried to talk sense into him but his father never said a word.

It would be easy to go home, and although this wasn't the first time he'd felt this way, this was the first time he didn't have Shannon to talk him out of it. He could hear her advice regardless: it would be easy to go home, but he didn't belong at home. He was an aerialist, and Madison, Georgia was no place for someone who was born to fly.

He opened his laptop again and expanded his search. With Shannon and the troupe gone, there was nothing left for him in Georgia. Of all the results in the country, the best was in Boston — an opening for an aerialist with the Samwell Circus Troupe, specializing on silk for a role in their current show _Nature_. Boston was incredibly far away, but the opening was immediate.

The show received several positive reviews as Eric attempted to discover more about it, and then he saw the Playbill: the face of a young man with bright blue eyes staring straight through the computer screen at him, his dark hair flopping over his forehead, half his face covered by forest, the other covered by sky. He was sad. He was beautiful.

Eric clicked back into the application and took a deep breath. If this didn't work out, he'd have to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@gnomer-denois](http://gnomer-denois.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for the suggestion on Hall's first name. If we ever find out what it is in canon, let me know and I'll update it. Until then, he's Andy.

There were enough boxes left over to fit all of the possessions Eric wanted to keep. He knew right away some things would have to stay behind — Shannon's parents didn't take any of her furniture and Eric had no use for it. Once Eric attached a trailer to his pickup truck, he realized very quickly that even the furniture he wanted to save wasn't going to fit with all of the kitchen supplies, his clothes, and the keepsakes from his room. 

"You can't move across the country with no furniture," said Tristan when Eric pulled in front of the apartment building with the small trailer attached to his trusty blue truck. "How are you supposed to fit anything in this? I don't even think we can get your bed in here."

"We can get the bed in here," said Eric with a wave of his hand. "Let's grab that first and then we can work on the boxes."

"You're not getting the couch in here either," said Tristan. Eric ran up four flights of stairs with Tristan behind him and entered his apartment. The couch sat in the middle of the room atop a rug, next to a coffee table, two end tables, and an entertainment stand with the television. Even at first glance, Eric had to agree that none of this would fit in the trailer with all of the boxes and his bed. The trailer would have to do, though; he had three days before he started with the Samwell Circus Troupe in Boston.

Eric, Brad, and Tristan carried the bed downstairs first, and between the frame, mattress, and boxspring, they filled two-thirds of the trailer. Three trips later they hadn't emptied the kitchen yet and they were out of room. Eric looked at the back of his truck and the trailer and groaned in frustration; he hadn't planned to leave this much behind. He begrudgingly removed the extra mixing bowls and good china to make room for linens and clothing. In the end he'd packed as much as he could into the trailer, the backseat, and the bed of the truck, but all of the rest of the furniture apart from a few lamps were left behind. 

"Let me see if Jo and Meg want your couch. I don't think we have room for it," said Tristan, who gratefully accepted the television and its stand. Eric crossed the hall and knocked on Jo and Megan's door. A moment later Jo opened it; Eric pursed his lips quickly. Jo and Shannon were not related, but they had the same red hair and dark eyes, and Eric saw Shannon whenever he looked at her.

"I'm all packed up," Eric said. "Do you want to check out the place to see what I have to leave behind?"

"You can just leave it all, Eric," said Jo. "I'll get Brad and Tristan to get rid of it before your lease is up. I'm sure the troupe can pick through it now that we're all going our separate ways."

"You could come with me, you know," said Eric. "They have dance roles open too."

"I'm going back to school," said Jo with a defeated shrug. "I've always been mediocre at best when it comes to this."

"That's ridiculous. You're a great dancer."

"You're better and it's not even your specialty. Not all of us can get into another troupe right away, and definitely not on a show like that."

"A show like what?" asked Eric.

"A good show with real production and real reviews. You know Bob Zimmermann's kid is starring in it, right?" Jo asked. Eric shook his head and also did not ask who Bob Zimmermann was. "It's a good gig, Eric. You'll do well there. The rest of us? I think it's time to grow up and move on. Good luck. Don't be a stranger."

"I'll keep in touch," said Eric. "And Jo, seriously — if school's a bust, I'll put in a good word."

"Thanks, Eric."

"Don't let them charge me for leaving furniture behind," said Eric. He handed Jo a key. 

"Watch out for snow," she called as he headed toward the stairs.

Eric had not even thought about snow, but eight hours later he reached Richmond, Virginia and saw the first dustings of white along the grass, which only accumulated along the highway as he drove. It was not a welcome sight as the sun began to set. There was no way he was going to make it to Boston in one go, but he was hoping to at least make it to DC before stopping. He found the first hotel that looked cheap but safe and pulled into the parking lot.

He shivered as he stepped out of the car but didn't go directly inside; instead he took a few steps forward and stuck his hand in the thick layer of crunchy white snow that had been pushed to the edge of the parking lot. As soon as he put his bare hand in it he pulled out with a mutter of "You're an idiot, Dicky," as his hand froze. He quickly grabbed his overnight bag and ran inside the hotel, flexing and unflexing his hand.

The blanket of snow grew thicker the further north he drove, but luckily none fell during his trip. He arrived at his new apartment building at eight o'clock in the evening. He circled the building for several minutes, looking for parking, when he noticed an alley. The alley had no discernable spaces, and there was no available street parking to accommodate a long truck and the attached trailer. He found what looked like a spot and hoped he wouldn't be towed, then stared at the building in front of him — brown brick rising fifteen stories into the air on a busy downtown city street. Gray sludge lined the curb up and down the block. The sun was already down but the lights of the city negated the need for it. Eric could see just fine, but he knew it was going to be cold. He just wanted to fall asleep in his bed, but his bed was in the trailer and his new apartment was on the tenth floor.

The air bit at his face as soon as he opened the truck door, flitting up his back as well as crystallizing the snot in his nose. He didn't even know cold could do that. His hands were sore and stiff as they lifted the gate of the trailer, but he picked up his mattress and lobbed it onto his back to carry into the building — the rest of it could wait until morning. He just needed somewhere to lie down.

The building entrance was next door to a Starbucks, which would be convenient when he could afford it. The lobby was still open and he was able to get up to the tenth floor without a key. The apartment itself was empty and uninviting. Eric threw his mattress onto the hardwood floor and then looked around. He knew it would be smaller than what he had in Atlanta, but the entire apartment was the size of his old bedroom. The mattress took up most of the space. It was actually a blessing that he was unable to fit most of his furniture in the trailer because he would have nowhere to put it. He located the thermostat, which was on the wall next to the kitchen (a term he used loosely, as it was more a refrigerator, stove, and sink connected by a counter just steps away from the bed). He cranked the heat up, went back downstairs and retrieved his suitcase, then left the truck in the space, hoped it would be there in the morning, and returned upstairs. He opened the suitcase and pulled out two extra sweaters and another pair of sweatpants along with Shannon's tie blanket. After putting on the extra clothing he lay on the bare mattress with the blanket over him, Senor Bunny snug in his arms, and closed his eyes.

 

***

 

The truck and trailer were still there in the morning, along with a parking ticket for a hundred dollars that made Eric's blood boil — it was still cold, the snow drenched the bottom of his jeans, and he'd have to forgo real groceries until his first paycheck in order to pay the ticket on time. He blinked away tears and unloaded the rest of his belongings, working up a sweat in a way he'd never done before. His neck and chest felt warm and wet but his nose was running and his ears and fingers were frozen. It took until lunch to get everything in the apartment. He hadn't eaten yet but did have a casserole in the trailer so he heated a portion in the oven before he returned the trailer to the Uhaul station.

He'd just dropped off the trailer when he received a call from a Boston number that he didn't recognize. He quickly answered it.

"Eric, this is Andy Hall from Samwell. Did you make it to Boston okay?"

"I'm here," was the best that Eric could say.

"Great! We'll get you into the studio tomorrow but if you're settled in you should come to the show at seven tonight. I'd love for you to see it before we start training."

"Yeah, I can absolutely do that," said Eric.

"I'll meet you at the performers' entrance at six-thirty. Text me here if you run into any issues."

Eric whiled away the day unpacking. He'd heard nothing and read nothing about the Samwell Circus Troupe after he put in an application. He should have, especially after his interview with the director and his subsequent offer. The theater was only four blocks away and he could run over to check it out, or at least take a look at the posters, but he still felt cold. The skin on his thighs hurt as it rubbed against against his jeans, a deep-rooted chill he could feel down to his bones. The heat had kicked on but the temperature in the apartment was barely tolerable. When he raised the blinds in the bathroom, a layer of ice had formed inside the window. He definitely wasn't going back outside.

The apartment was small, but it was fine. He didn't have anyone or anything with him. His bed fit against the wall next to another window. He could feel the cold seeping in but this one didn't have any ice on it. He placed a lamp on the floor behind the head of the bed and unfolded a TV tray to put his computer on. He sat Senor Bunny atop his pillow and stared at him, but then stuffed him under the covers and turned to the kitchen, where he unpacked all the gadgets and cookware. He hanged as many clothes as he could in the only closet and put the rest in boxes, then cleaned the bathroom from floor to ceiling. It kept him busy until six o'clock, when he looked at his clothes and realized he didn't have anything close to a winter coat. 

He dressed in his warmest sweater and layered compression tights under his jeans, then elected to drive to the theater instead of walk, since he didn't want to be outside any longer than necessary. As it turned out there was no parking lot and he had to walk anyway, but he entered the building through the performers' door with minimal slush on the cuffs of his pants and only a slightly runny nose.

Hall stood in the vestibule. He was in his forties with wire-rimmed glasses and a pleasant expression. Eric recognized him from their brief Skype interview just the week before. Next to Hall stood a younger man with similar brown hair but had brown eyes, no glasses, and thicker eyebrows than Hall. Hall stepped forward. "Eric! Nice to meet you in person," he said before he shook Eric's hand. "This is Murray, my co-director who mostly handles the dancers, singers, and band."

"I saw your tape," said Murray, who also shook Eric's hand. "I know Hall was impressed with your silk work but I have to commend your dance skills as well. Glad to have you on the team."

"Thank you," said Eric. 

"Have you read up on the show at all?" Hall asked as they started walking deeper into the theater. There was a fair amount of bustle as soon as they passed through the vestibule. Performers in various stages of dress and makeup passed by them along with the stage crew who wore all black. The performers were a stark contrast to the crew; their costumes were brightly colored and drew all of Eric's attention, although it was hard to focus on just one and also listen to Hall.

"A little bit," lied Eric.

"We're really proud of it," said Murray. "It's been in production for two years now and even in that time it's gotten exponentially better than what we debuted. We're up to fifty performers and we're selling out almost every show. You're really going to like it. It's a world that you've never seen before."

Eric expected a tour of the backstage facilities but Hall and Murray ushered him quickly to the auditorium and as a result Eric had only seen glimpses of the performers and their brightly colored outfits before they disappeared. Murray excused himself at the stairs to the box seats, so Hall and Eric sat alone in a box to the left of the stage. Hall handed Eric a Playbill. This was one of the few pieces of the show he had seen before; a man stared right back into Eric's eyes, his face covered half in forest and half in sky. Eric stared back at the textures of his skin and the fall of his dark hair over his forehead.

He must have been staring because Hall nudged him. "That's Jack," said Hall. "He plays the role of The Man. You'll interact with him in your part in the second act, but I don't want to say more than that."

"What part will I play?" Eric asked.

"You're a poppy petal," said Hall and laughed at Eric's reaction. "I promise it's less trivial than it sounds. The poppy sequence is actually one of my favorites and you really need skill in order to pull it off both technically and artistically. We can teach anyone how to wrap a silk, but to make your wrap look effortless, like you're floating in the breeze? That takes talent, and that's why we hired you. The Atlanta troupe must have done well to be able to produce someone like you at the age of nineteen."

"Yeah, we had a good program. I was really sad when we closed."

Hall's lips fell into a frown. "Did you know her well?"

"She was my roommate," said Eric.

"I'm so sorry," said Hall. "We're fortunate to have a performer like yourself on our roster but I wish it were under better circumstances. Let me know if we can do anything for you — I know this must be a dramatic change, switching companies and relocating in the middle of winter."

"That's very kind of you, but I think I'll be okay. I wanted to get out of Georgia anyway," said Eric. He opened the Playbill and looked through it in an attempt to distract himself, but he could feel Hall's words inside of his bones. More than anything, he could feel Shannon's presence lurking, threatening to push him into a weepy, downtrodden mess in front of his new director.

"Regardless of how you got here," said Hall, "I'm happy you're here. The show was written with five poppy petals in mind but we've made do with just the four. It will be nice to have a complete cast. I'd love your feedback on what the others are doing in the second act." 

Eric, who had just seen the set design for the first time in the Playbill and was thinking how something with so much color would not be overwhelming, looked back to Hall. "I'm excited to see it. I'm excited for the opportunity. I've heard so many good things already," he said.

A few minutes later the lights dimmed and Eric put down his Playbill. When the curtain opened he could feel Hall's eyes on him. He immediately gasped, a hand covering his mouth as he looked at the set. A woman painted in streaks of yellow, orange, and red sat on a golden trapeze in front of a bright blue sky. The sky and the white clouds below it looked as if Eric were standing in an Impressionist exhibit at the museum, the paint thick, the strokes short and obvious. Even the sun herself looked like a painting come to life as she began to swing back and forth to slow, peaceful music. Eric watched with delightful anticipation as he waited for her to set the tone of the show. She did quickly; she dropped backward, holding onto the trapeze with her knees, and on her backswing flew up into the air, twisted twice, and landed securely in a seated position on the bar. Eric and the rest of the audience applauded.

As the sun continued to swing, the rest of the cast was introduced: dancers and performers in three distinct costumes representing a dark forest, a flowery meadow, and the bright blue sky. They all wore their makeup in the same way, their bodies covered in strokes of paint to give them the feel of being not quite human. Eric couldn't keep his eyes in one place — they darted between two sets of balancers spinning their partners at the front of the stage, jugglers tossing bolts of fire to each other, aerialists who spun in slow circles both near the ground and up in the air, and dancers who weaved in between everyone else. He looked everywhere and felt as if he were looking nowhere because there was so much to see.

The performers on the stage began to thin out as the woman who looked like the sun, now hanging from the bar with both hands, let go and backflipped before she caught it again, and then was slowly pulled up into the rafters as the set began to turn as if on a large wheel. The bright blue of the sky gave way to leaves, tree trunks, and a grassy forest floor. The contrast from the light of the sky to the darkness of the forest was stark and jarring. Wood nymphs ran back on the stage and began to climb gracefully up into the treetops. Eric watched in amusement as they swung around like monkeys through the trees on a trapeze not unlike the sun's, although this bar was brown. They tossed each other from one tree to another. Eric was so engrossed with them he didn't notice Jack at first.

Jack had entered at some point during the routine, barefoot, wearing white pants and a white shirt and skin that had been painted like everyone else. By the time Eric noticed him he was already holding onto a vine that he climbed slowly up into the trees, marvelling at the trapeze artists. Once the wood nymphs realized Jack was there they grabbed him and let him take a few turns on the trapeze. Jack's flips were much less complicated than the dedicated performers but still impressive; Eric knew he was the main character but assumed he'd be more of an actor.

Just as Jack started to play with the wood nymphs, the music turned ominous and the forest began to spin — rather than tossing Jack back and forth and showing him how they could do the same, the nymphs grabbed hold of him with force, threw him from the ledge only to be caught just before he could fall to his doom. This caused Eric to gasp and look at Hall, who smiled at him. Eric expected this to be the end of it, but then Jack was thrown to the next performer in the line, then the next as the set spun, the nymphs clearly in control. Even from this distance Eric could see the panic in Jack's face as he was tossed like a rag doll from nymph to nymph, unable to break the cycle.

After the first throw, a spotlight appeared on the right of the stage. A woman who Eric recognized from the Playbill as The Sprite entered, dressed in all of the colors of the rainbow, and began to watch the nymphs in awe. Once her eyes landed on Jack she covered her mouth in dramatic shock before she climbed a vine. As Jack began to be tossed toward her she threw one of the wood nymphs aside. With no one to catch Jack he reached out desperately to grab hold of something before he fell and latched onto the vine the nymph had climbed. Jack unsteadily tumbled down and landed to the right of the stage in a pit of mud as thunder roared in the distance. The stage turned again and instead of more forest, the sky appeared a second time, back to the sun on her trapeze, who began to swing gently, interrupted every so often by growing thunder, until the clouds darkened and the lights dimmed. A man dressed like a storm cloud lay in the center of the stage and began to balance a woman on his feet, her bodysuit covered in reflective lightning bolts. When he spun her around with his feet, dancers with similar bodysuits ran onto the stage, followed by two men who began juggling lightning bolts between them. Eric's eyes darted around the bottom of the stage while the sun continued swinging, twirling, and jumping above until the thunderstorm quelled and the sky rotated away to reveal a meadow. Jack appeared in the corner in the opposite side of the stage, still laying in mud. The sprite ran across the stage, took Jack by the hands, and pulled him out of the puddle. Jack, clearly sore, stood at the edge of the meadow as the sprite began dancing with several performers dressed as poppies. Jack watched until the dancers began to exit, both to the sides of the stage and then gracefully spinning on wires up into the rafters.

Hall nudged Eric and gestured to the stage, as if Eric had not been enraptured in it for the past half hour. Four aerialists dressed as red and purple poppy petals were lowered from the rafters on sky blue silks, drifting as if in the wind until they reached the ground. Dancers dressed as petals appeared from either sides of the stage as the sprite took Jack by the hand and began to weave him in and out of the others, the dancers circling him when he came close, the aerialists floating around him. The timing was beautiful and Eric could imagine himself there quite easily, winding and unwinding in the silks. He fell in love with the sequence and excitement swelled in him as he remembered he was to be part of them, until Jack reached the final aerialist who grabbed him by the armpits and soared upward into air. Eric gasped; two petals, already secured in their silks, began to tie Jack into his own wrap and then all violently sunk back to the earth with no grace or gentleness. It looked out of control, the three of them falling almost freestyle down to the ground where they all stopped just before they splattered on the stage.

The excitement Eric felt was gone. He couldn't blink. He couldn't breathe. The petals, caught in what looked like updrafts, pulled Jack up and down. Every time they fell Eric saw Shannon hit the ground. His vision clouded with tears and could barely see as Jack attempted, again and again, to make it across the stage toward the sprite. With Eric's sight occluded he could only hear the crash of drums and cymbals whenever the drops began again. He blinked several times; he knew Hall was watching him and didn't want to lose control of himself before he even began to work, but there was no way he'd be able to take part in a routine with drops that dangerous.

When his vision cleared Jack and the sprite were alone, entwined on a sky blue silk, performing what Eric supposed was a tender moment, but they kept slipping out of focus. He blinked and sat upright and they snapped back into place, then slid away again as they performed a much more controlled, elegant drop, and spun in slow circles five feet from the ground, Jack supporting the sprite with an arm underneath her back. They slowly twisted together and lowered until their feet touched the stage. The sprite pulled herself upright, embraced Jack, their faces just inches apart, and then she gestured to the sky. He nodded and they vaulted upward to thunderous applause.

"It's a good sequence, isn't it?" Hall asked, misinterpreting Eric's tears for emotion rather than fear. Eric nodded just once. The sun had another interlude and Eric barely paid attention. While still impressive, he couldn't tear the sight of Shannon's body out of his eyes. Even after Jack and the sprite returned and the show ended with an impressive trampoline sequence resulting in Jack's transformation into a sprite himself, Eric couldn't focus. He applauded along with the crowd once the curtain fell, but his attitude toward his new job had changed dramatically over the course of ninety minutes.

"So what do you think?" Hall asked, who looked superficially confident, as if nervous of how Eric would respond.

"It's absolutely beautiful," said Eric. "The art style alone makes this more impressive than anything I've seen outside of Vegas."

"And what about your part?"

"It was…" Eric paused as he thought about how to respond without losing his job. "Dangerous."

Hall's expression turned sympathetic, the kind that made Eric feel very young. "Eric," said Hall gently. "I understand your concern, but I want to assure you performer safety is the most important part of this company. The updraft sequence looks dangerous but the drops are exaggerated by rigging, which is inspected and tested regularly. While to the audience it appears like someone could fall, you are in no danger of that actually happening."

"We'll see when I get into it," said Eric. He looked down at his Playbill, at Jack's face staring back at him. "And Jack — I thought he was just an actor. He was in almost all the sequences, right? You didn't use a stand in?"

Hall smiled widely. "Jack and Camilla are gifted in multiple disciplines. We're extremely lucky to have them."

Eric stood and looked into the house; people were lining up in the aisles to exit, and even with a few of the back rows having left already, it appeared as though every seat were full.

"We've sold out the rest of the month," said Hall. "We'll sell out next month too. You can get tickets, but only in advance."

"It looks like a success," said Eric.

"We're really proud of it. It's a good company and a great show. Come on, I want to introduce you to some of your castmates," said Hall. Eric followed him backstage. The first person Eric saw was Jack, still in his sprite leotard and makeup. The panic and anxiety Eric had felt while watching the updraft sequence melted away; Jack stood just five feet in front of him, a walking piece of art. He looked so out of place, like he'd jumped right out of a painting and wandered the streets until he ended up there, with people dressed in jeans and T-shirts. Eric could see he was naturally strong and fit — his leotard left nothing to the imagination. Jack's expression, however, did not fit the beauty of the rest of him.

"Jack, I want you to meet Eric," said Hall, stopping Jack before he walked away. Jack turned and put his hands on his hips, drawing Eric's attention there. Eric quickly averted his gaze. Jack didn't make an attempt to extend a hand or greet him. Hall pulled Eric forward and he looked up, his lips pursed together in a tight-lipped smile. "Eric will be the fifth aerialist in the poppy sequence," Hall continued.

"Okay, good," said Jack.

"Jack," said Hall in an admonishing tone.

"Hi," said Jack instead.

"Hi," said Eric.

Jack walked away without saying anything further and Hall watched Jack go, his expression annoyed. Eric also watched Jack go; despite the less than stellar introduction, it was easy to look at him. Hall then directed Eric toward someone else, short enough that Eric missed her at first, half undressed from her purple poppy petal costume, streaks of paint still on her face but her dark hair loose and down past her chin.

"Larissa," said Hall and he put out a hand to stop her. She turned and smiled a half-lipped grin.

"Oh, hey," she said. Eric liked her more than Jack already.

"This is Eric. He'll be the fifth poppy in your sequence," said Hall.

"'Swawesome. I'm Lardo. We should hang."

"Okay," said Eric. Lardo tipped her chin up at him before she walked away. Hall caught eyes with a lanky man and a brown haired woman, then gestured them over. Eric smiled at them and when the man smiled back, Eric saw he had braces.

"This is Chris and Caitlin, part of the balancing act in the first interlude," said Hall.

"In the thunderstorm," clarified Chris.

"Oh, yeah, that was really good," said Eric. "We didn't have anything like that in Atlanta. Only aerialists and dancers."

"Oh, are you an aerialist, then?" Christ asked. Eric nodded. "That's so cool. I mean Farmer --" Chris gestured to the woman next to him. "--and I can spin around and stuff, but it'd be so cool to be able to fly. That's really cool. Sorry I keep saying cool...but it is."

"Yeah, it's fun," said Eric. His heart ached; he hadn't been able to fly since the accident. He could feel his chest constrict in an unproductive way, unrelated to missing just his silks, so he continued: "That part with the lightning is good too."

"That's all Dex and Nursey," said Caitlin. She gestured toward a redhead standing with possibly the most sauve looking man Eric had seen. He leaned casually against a box of props with an amused expression on his face as he watched the redhead wildly articulate something Eric couldn't hear. Then suddenly the box bent and the man went crashing to the floor along with bolt-shaped lights that flickered, illuminating his dark hair and brown skin as they blinked on and off. The redhead was now exasperated, his hand covering his pinkening face.

"Yeah, that's Nursey," said Caitlin. "He's a lot more smooth onstage."

"What do they do?" Eric asked.

"They're jugglers."

Eric forced down his reaction; he remembered seeing the jugglers throw fire across the stage during the introduction of the show.

Chris and Caitlin also invited Eric to hang out with them before they left. Hall caught a woman just as she passed on the way to the exit. She had a lot of blonde hair and seemed less than pleased to be stopped; the expression reminded Eric of Jack.

"Camilla," said Hall. "Really quick before you go -- this is Eric. He'll be an aerialist in the poppy sequence."

"Oh, okay. Nice to meet you," she said and shook Eric's hand.

"Camilla plays the sprite," Hall said.

"You were amazing. That part looks so much fun," said Eric.

"Yeah. It's mostly exhausting. Sorry, I have to run. I said I'd meet April and March." Camilla smiled and waved as she darted out the door. When she left, two men in white leotards from the final cloud sequence approached. Hall introduced them as Justin and Adam.

"Yo, Lardo said we should hang," said Justin, or possibly Adam, since they didn't clarify who was who. "We normally go to the Haus after shows but since you're new, you should come back to ours."

"Sounds good," said Eric.

"Everyone else seems to have disappeared already," said Hall. "You and I will start training in the studio tomorrow morning. Welcome to Samwell, Eric Bittle." Hall shook Eric's hand before he left as well. When Eric looked back at Justin and Adam, they had thoughtful expressions on their faces.

"What?" Eric asked.

"Eric Bittle," one said.

"Bittle," said the other.

"Bitty," they said together.

Bitty raised his eyebrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bunch of notes about the inspiration for this show. If you've never seen a Cirque Du Soleil show and have the opportunity, I highly recommend it!
> 
> The art style for this show is directly inspired by [Alexa Meade](https://www.instagram.com/alexameadeart/?hl=en). You might know her as the woman behind the body painting in Ariana Grande's [God Is a Woman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHLHSlExFis) video. The work is brilliant and Alexa is a genius. Specific inspirations include:
> 
> [The Man](https://www.instagram.com/p/BhfP5ngB0h-/)  
> [The Sprite](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bg4jzjThtoz/)  
> [The backdrop in Act One](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bi2dm3wBElb/)  
> [The sun during the thunderstorm interlude after Act One](https://www.instagram.com/p/BeoLVfbhVm9/)
> 
> Also in case you want more info on what everyone does and some visuals, April and March both play the parts of The Sun, and they are aerialists who focus on [solo trapeze](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjIutWoddOI). Jack, Bitty, Lardo, and Camilla are all aerialists - and while Jack and Camilla's parts include more than just aerial silks, [that's their specialty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bN8VABMr_uc). Chowder and Farmer are an [Icarian Game pair](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huiLtQ-Xybo). Dex and Nursey are jugglers, and Ransom and Holster are tumblers (sorry I have no references for them).


	3. Chapter 3

Justin and Adam (or, as they preferred to call themselves, Ransom and Holster) lived two blocks down from Bitty in the opposite direction of the theater. The quality of their building was similar to Bitty's  —  gorgeous at street level, small and cramped in the hallways. Their apartment wasn't much bigger than Bitty's, although it had the benefit of a bedroom and space for a couch in their living room. The door to the bedroom was open and Bitty surreptitiously peered inside; they had bunk beds.

"You want a beer?" Ransom asked. Bitty was fairly certain after their initial conversation at the theater and the subsequent walk to their apartment that he knew which one was Ransom and which one was Holster.

"Sure," said Bitty. He sat on the couch that faced their television, and he missed his television. He could have fit it somewhere in the trailer, maybe between the mattress and box spring to protect it from falling over, but he really didn't have a place for it in the apartment. Holster sat in the armchair and put both his feet on their coffee table. None of their furniture matched, which made him feel less self-conscious about having one lamp and a TV stand as the extent of his. Ransom handed both Holster and him a beer. Bitty suppressed a full-body shiver at the feel of the cold can in his hand; he wasn't looking forward to going back outside.

"So Atlanta," said Ransom after he sat next to Bitty on the couch. "That's far away."

"Yeah," said Bitty. "I couldn't find any local work after the company closed so I knew I'd have to leave Georgia. I didn't expect to end up here."

"You try Cirque?" Holster asked. He'd finished half the beer already.

Bitty rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, like I'm going to get an audition at Cirque," he said.

"We hired you right away and we've been looking for an aerialist for years. You probably could have gotten an audition," said Holster.

"Yeah, well," mumbled Bitty, and he didn't finish his sentence before he took a sip of beer. "You're not aerialists, right? You were in the final act."

"We're tumblers," said Holster. "So our big part is in the third, but I do some dancing in the first and Ransypoo over here does some dancing in the second act, so you'll see him more than me."

"Between you, me, and Lards, we're going to be best buds," said Ransom and he bumped Bitty's fist. "She said she was coming over too. We can probs play Xbox or something until she gets here. You do not want to play Xbox against her, especially if there's a wager involved. She will kick your ass."

"I don't think it matters what we play. Everyone's going to kick my ass," said Bitty. "I have a few things I'm good at, but video games are definitely not one of them."

"Oh. We can do something else," said Ransom, who already had a controller in his hand. Bitty took it from him.

"No, let's play," said Bitty. Holster also received a controller and they began playing a shooting game, which was fun until Bitty died, and died, and died again. He was very grateful when the buzzer near the door sounded, signalling Lardo's presence. Ransom immediately turned off the game while Holster went to the door to let her inside. Everything was put away by the time Lardo entered, but her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You were playing Call of Duty without me, weren't you?" she asked.

"Pssh, no," said Holster, but when Lardo stared him down he grimaced and took another sip of beer.

Lardo turned to Bitty. "Hey. Sorry we didn't chat more at the theater. I had to get that paint off me. Love the show and all but the makeup can be suffocating. You're joining my sequence, huh?"

"Yeah. Poppy Petal #5, apparently," said Bitty.

"'Swawesome. We've had four since I started so it'll be cool to see what it's supposed to look like. You're from that Atlanta troupe, right?"

Bitty nodded, dread seeping into his bones like the cold from outside, waiting for Lardo to ask about Shannon. She didn't. She walked to the fridge, took out two cans of beer, and replaced Bitty's empty one before she sat next to him on the couch. She pulled out a blanket from underneath the coffee table, tucked her legs under her chin, and then covered the pair of them with it. Bitty relaxed into the corner of the couch, her body close to his.

"C'mon Holtzy," said Lardo. "Hook me up. Since you lied to me I get a head start."

They played video games and drank beer for another hour before Bitty yawned and excused himself to go home. Ransom and Holster pulled him in for a hug between the two of them; they were both much taller than him and he was crushed into their chests, but he emerged from the embrace with a smile. "I'll walk out with you," said Lardo. They walked back four blocks toward the theater so Bitty could pick up his truck. Lardo pointed at a building just down the street. This was a true apartment building, not just rooms tacked onto office space or on top of retailers.

"I live right there," she said. "Come and chill whenever you want. Will you be at practice tomorrow?"

"Yep," said Bitty. "First one."

"See you then." Lardo waved and headed down the street. Bitty got into his car and started it, then shivered as cold air came through the vents. He turned the heat to full blast and waited impatiently for warmth to come.

The following morning Bitty walked to the Samwell practice facility for the first time. A sign above the entrance labeled it  _ Faber Studio _ . He took in a long breath before he opened the door and headed inside. 

Hall met him in the entryway and directed him to the locker room first where he set down his gym bag and took off three layers of sweatshirts. Once in the practice room, he could hear the familiar sounds of people warming up — weight hitting the floor, the creak of athletic equipment, the starting and stopping of music. It had been weeks since he'd been able to fly and his feet were itching to leave the ground. Lardo and three others were already up on silks; she waved at him from twenty feet in the air. He waved back.  He and Hall stepped behind a divider away from the rest of the group to a single blue silk on a rig, which Hall proceeded to lower closer the ground. 

Bitty rushed forward to it but as soon as his fingers touched the nylon fabric, he felt a kind of dread he'd never associated with his work before. From the first time he saw an aerialist at the age of seven he had fallen in love with the apparatus. The first moment he touched a silk at the age of fifteen he knew this was the rest of his life, the delicate hidden strength that would hold him as he twirled, stretched, and dangled with nothing but it to keep him from the ground. It had been a magical sight, and a magical feeling; this was the opposite of magical and he shuddered involuntarily. From behind the divider music began, filling the large studio with an aggressive tune of loud, fast fiddles. Bitty let go of the silk and looked at the divider.

"We'll get you out with the rest of the group for daily practice when you've learned the routine. I hope it's not too distracting for you  — they're usually only here for ninety minutes but you can stay as long as you need to get it down," explained Hall. Bitty looked up; although the music was definitely what he'd heard from his sequence, it didn't appear as though they were running through the whole routine together. Lardo was still up high on her silk, stretching herself out into a belay, upside down with her legs out to the sides, the tails of her silks wide as she spun slowly around, her hands free. Her expression was wistful and content but Bitty couldn't possibly feel the same upon seeing her that far off the ground without securing herself with her hands. As she spun away she looked at someone behind the divider and then, with a wicked smile, she flicked them off. Bitty grinned.

"Come on over, let me teach you some of these drops," said Hall. Bitty reluctantly turned back toward the silk. The top of the rigging was only six or seven feet off the ground, not much taller than him, but when he grasped the tails in his hands he could tell his palms were already clammy. Panic set in  —  he couldn't do anything with clammy hands, and he couldn't flub his very first practice in front of his new boss. He attempted to breathe deeply to calm his nerves, but it just made everything worse. He couldn't find his breath, his hands were unfit to support himself even just six feet off the ground, and he was panicking just inches away from someone he needed to impress. This was the worst possible scenario.

"Based on your audition tape I  think you'll be familiar with some of these," said Hall. "You can do a windmill, right?"

"Yeah," said Bitty. Even his voice sounded strange coming out of his mouth, like it belonged to someone else.

"Great, we can start with that. Get up on here and do as many as you can," said Hall and he lowered the rigging further. Bitty grasped the silk firmly in his fists, as close to the top knot as possible. Clammy hands or no clammy hands, he was going to have to do this. Hall watched closely as Bitty, two feet on the ground, wrapped himself in preparation for a windmill drop. Every step of the way he felt disconnected from himself, thinking too hard about what he had to do next. Windmills were one of his favorites; he did them every day in Atlanta. He could have wrapped himself with his eyes closed, but he was terrified to close his eyes and instead stared at his hands. It was odd to do this on the ground but it felt much safer. Once he completed the standard S wrap, he looked at Hall, who pressed the button to lift the rigging and Bitty's feet left the ground for the first time.

Terror set in immediately. He gripped the fabric above his waist tightly in both hands and closed his eyes, letting his body fall backward so he was upside down. He refused to open his eyes. Even with the aggressive fiddle music of the poppy sequence on the other side of the divider, he could hear the rig as it raised him higher and higher off the ground. He didn't want to know how high. He didn't want to see how far he would drop if he fell. Tears popped into his eyes as he kept going, up up and up, but he kept them squeezed shut so no one else could see that he was being ridiculous, that he was crying over simply leaving the ground. His wrap wasn't finished. He still needed to twist to secure the knot.

"All right, Eric," called Hall. He sounded so far away. "Show me how many you can do before you hit the ground."

_ Oh God _ , Bitty thought. He didn't want to see the ground. He didn't want to know how many he could do before he slammed into the gym pads. His obliques were starting to shake from his tension. His hands were so sweaty it was dangerous. If he let go and wheeled down he was going to fall and he was going to hit the ground hard.

"Whenever you're ready."

Hall was starting to notice. Bitty forced his eyes open and fortunately was looking up at the ceiling. He stared at the top knot of the silk and twisted to begin to secure himself in the wrap, but he couldn't finish without facing the ground. He closed his eyes and quickly turned all the way around, and then looked at the ceiling again. There was no way to know how many turns he could do without knowing how far away from the ground he was. He'd have to look. He clenched his teeth hard and peeked over his shoulder.

_ Oh God _ , he thought again. He was very far up. He looked to the side and another one of the poppy petals was up on his rigging on the other side of the divider. Just as Bitty looked, the other aerialist fell downward and Bitty's heart flew up his throat and toward the ground with him. He hanged upside down, still several feet from the ground, and then pulled himself up again. He was fine, but Bitty definitely was not.

"You okay up there, Eric?" Hall asked.

"Sorry!" called Bitty quickly. He clenched his teeth again and just did it  — with his hands alternating from the knot at this waist to the tail below him, he spun three complete times, his legs spread out to the sides, until the ground was far too close and he had to stop, face down, staring at it. He tentatively reached out a hand and was able to touch it. He let out a loud breath and released himself from his wrap, his knees now on the floor.

"Good," said Hall. "You'll be higher onstage so I think you can do four, which is what we were thinking. Can you do it again? Not so fast this time. Your form was good but the timing was off."

"Sure," said Bitty although reluctant to let his fingertips off the mat beneath him. On the other side of the divider someone let out a "Whoa!" of uncertainty, which was met with laughter by the rest of the performers. It made Bitty's chest cave in as if his sternum was trying to meet his spine but that was ridiculous, and he was ridiculous, and he needed to get over it. He picked up the silk again and wrapped himself a second time before Hall raised the rigging.

"I'll bring you up a little further this time. See if you can do four."

"Great," Bitty muttered as he watched the ceiling grow ever closer. When the rig stopped he closed his eyes one more time as he completed the knot. He released and successfully turned his legs over four times like a windmill. He released and dropped to the floor again.

"That'll be the height from the stage so, great, you have room," said Hall. "Just remember to slow it down."

"Slow it down" was a recurring theme the remainder of the week as Hall worked with Bitty behind the divider. The individual parts of the routine were easy to learn and Bitty had it down in four days. In theory four updrafts, each featuring a different drop, was simple to remember. By the fifth day Bitty walked into Faber knowing what he had to do, but knowing what he had to do and actually executing without error were two completely different things. Even after he was able to connect his sequences with the artistic elements, he continued to find it difficult to follow the music that Hall played once the rest of the group left rehearsal.

"You're doing great," said Hall after their fifth practice. "Honestly, Eric, this progress is much more than I expected from someone this new. Do you think you'd be ready to join group tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Bitty asked as he wiped his sweaty hands on his tights. "Like, with everyone?"

"Yeah, with everyone," said Hall. "We'll start slow since everyone will need to adjust to having you there, but I think we can get going on it. Jack's been down my throat about when we can incorporate you in, so I think with what you just showed me, we can definitely get you started and working with him."

"With Jack? I'm working with him?"

"We'll have to figure out exactly where you'll fit," said Hall. "Part of the updraft sequence is getting him wrapped and set up for his routine, which is supposed to mimic the poppies grabbing him and forcing him back toward the mud. It's meant to look out of his control, but once you get to know Jack, you'll learn very quickly that he is in complete control every moment he is on stage."

This didn't leave Bitty with a good impression, but he agreed to join group practice the following day. The divider was gone and his rigging had joined the other four in the main aerialist section of the studio. Bitty stood sheepishly next to Hall as they faced the rest of the group, including Jack and Camilla, who stood close to each other but separate from everyone else. In general the four other poppies looked friendly. Lardo was smiling at him the whole time Hall introduced him, but Jack looked stoic and unapproachable and Camilla looked bored.

"I think most of you have met Eric by now," said Hall, gesturing unnecessarily toward Bitty, who smiled the sort of awkward smile that really only pushed his lips together. "If you haven't, we've finally found our fifth poppy petal. He's been working with me for the past week or so. He's done a tremendous job picking up the routine in private rehearsal so we're bringing him out to join with the rest of you today. We'll see how it goes and when we can incorporate him into the show, so nothing's changing for your performances this week, but we'll all be working hard to adjust everyone's parts so we can do what this sequence was originally intended to do. Eric, do you have anything you want to say?"

Bitty's eyebrows flew up and he looked at Hall, surprised, but turned to the other poppies. He looked past Connor, Anthony, and Denice, and instead focused on Lardo. "Um, not really. Hi. I'm excited to be here."

"Eric joins us from the Atlanta Flying Circus," said Hall, which caused a dramatic mood shift among the group. Those who had been at least vaguely interested now averted their gazes. Bitty looked down at his feet to avoid accidentally catching someone's eye.

Only Jack seemed to be unaffected by this news and spoke up: "We ready to start?"

"Let's get going," said Hall. "Let's begin as usual from the top and see where we need to adjust."

Bitty was the rightmost aerialist in the back row, which had been increased now from two to three.  He was more nervous now than he had been thus far; his sequence would begin in the rafters, which was much higher than he preferred. He wrapped himself up in his silk and carefully lowered himself down into position. There was no music this time, instead eight counts by Hall and a metronome, and Bitty lowered himself down to the stage with elegance, but unfortunately still faster than everyone else.

They repeated the initial petal drop several times to determine Jack and Camilla's positioning, and then began to work on the best way to incorporate Bitty into wrapping Jack into his silks for each of his updrafts. Jack had four updraft sequences altogether and it was determined that Bitty would be added to the second and fourth. In the second sequence Bitty grabbed Jack by the arms and pulled him backward as Lardo wrapped him up, and in the fourth Bitty was to trap Jack in a silk and wrap him alone, which was difficult to maneuver in a convincing way since Jack was six inches taller than Bitty.

During this choreography Jack had not looked at him once. Even when Bitty successfully trapped both of Jack's arms in silk and smoothly wrapped his torso so he would be set up for a corkscrew when he got into the air, Jack never looked at him. Hall lifted Jack into the air via the rigging but Jack shook his head as soon as his feet left the ground.

"This is wrong," Jack said immediately. Hall lowered him back down and Jack looked down at his waist and then directly into Bitty's eyes. His eyes were intense, blue and clear like a wolf in the night, and they showed no sympathy to Bitty's inexperience. "You didn't wrap my waist a second time."

Bitty looked at Jack's waist and then his cheeks flushed; he did not wrap Jack's waist a second time.

"It's a double corkscrew," said Jack. He unwrapped himself and shoved the silk back in Bitty's hands. "Do it again."

Bitty did it again, this time correctly, but he was so focused on securing Jack that he didn't step out of the way in time. Jack clipped his shoulder on the way up and stopped the sequence again. Bitty's entire face felt hot, his heart beat nervously in his chest, and he flubbed every single wrap for the next twenty minutes, resulting in Jack walking off in a huff with Hall and Bitty hiding his face in the silks as Jack said, "Seriously, Hall, why'd you hire this guy?"

Bitty caught eyes with Lardo. She offered him a small smile, but he left the studio without another word.

The following day Bitty was nervous before he even entered Faber. He could feel the sweat on his palms his heart in his chest, and Jack's fierce eyes from the day before as he pointed out yet another mistake that Bitty had made. Jack was in the locker room when Bitty arrived, facing away and removing his sweatshirt. His T-shirt rode up his back as the sweatshirt lifted over his head and Bitty's eyes filled with an expanse of smooth, muscular skin. The flutter in his heart shifted, for just a moment, before Jack turned and gave Bitty an annoyed look before he left the locker room.

Bitty removed his two sweatshirts and his hat and stuffed them in his locker before he begrudgingly entered the studio with the others. His heart beat faster as he got into position. He didn't have to wait long for the first mistake to happen, but this was worse than all the others — he dropped in parallel with Jack and turned too fast, as he had all week, and felt his foot hit Jack on the back on the way down.

"Okay, that's it," said Jack. He quickly unravelled himself and waited for Bitty to do the same. "I know you're new and for some reason seem to think that that gives you leeway to make mistakes, but it doesn't. This is a real show with real stunts that are really dangerous. I don't know how you got here or what you did before, but this is serious. If you make mistakes like this on stage, somebody's going to get killed."

The rest of the aerialists, who had been quiet during Jack's speech, shifted awkwardly and looked away from Jack and Bitty. Camilla was the only one to step forward. "Jack," she said.

"No, this isn't a joke. Get with the program or quit," said Jack and then stormed out of the studio. Bitty felt tears in his eyes and looked at the others, but no one would meet his gaze, including Lardo. Bitty also left the studio, grabbed his two sweatshirts and his hat, and went home.

There was nothing positive to greet him when he opened his apartment door. Boxes still littered what little floor space he had. He threw his gym bag in with the mess and flopped onto his bed. He rolled up into Shannon's blanket and held Senor Bunny tight to him. Jack was right. He had every reason to be angry. Bitty had been nothing but sloppy since his first practice. Sloppiness meant mistakes, and mistakes at this level were deadly. There was no room for error.

Bitty's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it.

      **Hall**  
     Didn't see you before you left. Let's chat tomorrow morning.  
  


The words brought a chill unrelated to the weather. This was the end of it, then. He spent the last of his savings on the Uhaul trailer and his security deposit for the apartment. Without a job he could stay in Boston until the end of February when the landlord would evict him for nonpayment. He could survive on ramen noodles and saltine crackers until then, but after that he had nothing but his car, and the Boston winter was far too cold to attempt to survive in that thing.

He clutched Senor Bunny to his chest. Jo and Brad had been right: playing circus was fun for a while, but it was time to grow up and move on, and there was nothing he could do on his own, nineteen years old in a city he didn't know. He pulled up his mother's number in his contacts list and hovered over the call button.

What would he even say?  _ I'm sorry that I ran away. You were right. _ The words felt like acid in his throat, sour and painful. Were his parents even right? Did he ruin his life by running away to join the circus? It didn't feel like the wrong decision then, and didn't feel like the wrong decision now. He was better for having the circus in his life, better for having Shannon, better for finding something he loved. But, even if he were better for it, he had thirty-two dollars in his bank account, one more serving of casserole in the fridge, and ice inside his windows.

He sighed, staring at the contact labeled  _ Mama _ , but before his thumb could press down two banner alerts drew his attention to the top of the screen.

      **Lardo**  
     You left before I had a chance to talk to you  
  
      **Lardo**  
     You want to hang tonight after the show?  
  
      **Bitty**  
     I don't know  
  
      **Lardo**  
     Listen, Jack can be an asshole. That's just who he is.   
  
      **Lardo**  
     Come over  
  
      **Lardo**  
     Ransom and Holster will be here too.  
  
      **Bitty**  
     Sure  
  
      **Lardo**  
     Swawesome. See you at nine-thirty.  
  


Bitty pulled himself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and a cabinet; there might have been only one serving of casserole left, but he had butter and flour and the determination to not come to Lardo's empty-handed.

 

***

 

"Is that a pie?" Lardo asked when she opened the door to her apartment at nine-thirty that evening. Bitty smiled widely at her and pulled back the plastic cover to reveal a perfectly golden brown blackberry pie, because blackberries were on sale for ninety-nine cents a package at Stop & Shop. "Oh, man, give me that immediately."

"Did you say pie?" yelled Ransom from his position on the couch — he and Holster sat facing the television where one of them was flipping through channels.

"I made y'all a little something as a thank you," said Bitty. Lardo had already confiscated the pie and had opened a drawer in the kitchen. Bitty could hear the familiar rustle of utensils as she searched for something specific. "I can't tell you how much I needed to be distracted today."

"Dude just ignore Jack," said Holster, who wasn't at the studio that morning. "He's a Grade A douche whenever we develop new routines. Actually, he's a Grade A douche regardless of what we're doing."

"He's Bob Zimmermann's son, Holtzy, what do you expect?" Lardo asked, her words muffled by the pie in her mouth, which she had begun eating directly from the tin with a fork. Bitty cracked a smile at the sight of blackberry filling on her face, but her words were confusing.

"Who's Bob Zimmermann?" Bitty asked.

Lardo stopped chewing and Ransom and Holster turned from the couch. All three of them glared at him. He laughed in a hollow, uncertain sort of way as his heart started beating overtime in his chest.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"Bob Zimmermann," said Ransom. "You came from a circus troupe, right? You have to know who Bob Zimmermann is."

"Should I?" Bitty asked, still laughing.

"You know how Cirque started in Montreal in the '80s, right?" Lardo asked.

"Jack's dad started Cirque?" Bitty asked, his eyes widening.

"Not quite," said Lardo. "Bob's epically popular up there."

"Like Nadia Comaneci popular," said Holster.

"He's the first Canadian to ever win a gold medal in gymnastics," said Lardo. "So he's a big deal, and in the '80s he started a circus troupe that was hella popular. A couple of months later, another group started that was hella popular. That other group wanted to expand out of Montreal. That other group was —"

"Cirque," supplied Bitty.

"So he didn't actually start it, but you can say he's the reason it exists," said Lardo.

"Why isn't Jack in Cirque, then, if his dad is such a big deal?" Bitty asked.

"That's a complicated story," said Lardo, but despite her friendly tone, Bitty felt cold and uncomfortable for asking. "Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if he announced tomorrow he was quitting to open a show for them. Basically the point I'm making is that Jack has a lot of quirks and you should just hang out with us instead of worrying about him."

"I'm not just worried about him," said Bitty. "Hall wants to meet with me in the morning. At least y'all made me feel welcome before I get fired and tossed on the street."

"Dude, you're not going to get tossed on the street," said Lardo. "Hall's not like that."

Bitty made a noncommittal noise and stepped into the kitchen. Everything about it was beautiful compared to the nightmare he'd had to deal with back at his place. He finessed his blackberry pie into an edible dish with absolutely no help from his inconsistent electric oven. Lardo had a gas range with a digital preheat setting, which was so clean it might never have been used. Bitty stepped up to it and ran his fingers along the oven door, which Lardo laughed about.

"Never seen an oven before, bro?" Lardo asked.

"Not this nice," said Bitty.

"Well feel free to come over and use it whenever you want. I don't think I've ever touched it. Shitty does sometimes but only for frozen pizza."

"Who's Shitty?" Bitty asked, a crinkle in his nose at what he assumed was the name of a person and not an adjective.

"My roommate," said Lardo. 

"Roommate," repeated Ransom and Holster with exaggerated air quotes. Lardo stared daggers at the back of their heads but said nothing to correct them.

"We'll see," said Bitty.

"I told you, Hall's not like that," said Lardo. "He's a good guy. He probably just wants to apologize to you and work it out."

"That's not the vibe I got," said Bitty, "and he would be right to let me go. I don't know why they even hired me to begin with. I've never been part of something this big before and I don't know if I'm good enough for it." He put his elbows on the island counter and pressed his palms into his eyes.

"That's not true," said Lardo. "It's been, what, a week? You're still learning."

"I haven't exactly been comfortable since I got here, and even when I can do it right, it's been mediocre at best," said Bitty.

"Well, can you do anything else?" asked Lardo.

"I danced when they needed me."

"Yo didn't Johnson just quit?" Ransom called from the couch.

"He did," said Lardo. "Johnson left just last week. He's a dancer. I don't think they posted for his job yet. If you really think you're not a fit for it, you can see if Hall will let you switch roles. We've been without a fifth poppy petal for so long I'm sure we could keep going without it."

"Maybe I'll do that," said Bitty. "See if I can keep my job."

"I still think you're overreacting," said Lardo. "Ransom. Holster. Are you going to get off your asses and eat pie or are you going to let me finish this one on my own?"

Ransom and Holster were off the couch in an instant.

The following morning at eight o'clock, Bitty sat in the chair in front of the desk as Hall closed the door behind them. As soon as Hall sat down, Bitty said, "I want to be a dancer."

Hall raised his thin eyebrows above the rim of his glasses. "A dancer?"

"Lardo — uh, Larissa — mentioned that someone quit last week and I'm equally as good if not better at dance as in the air, so if there's an opening I think it might be better for everyone if I just took that role instead of this one. If that's okay. I know that's presumptuous of me to just put myself in a role that I never auditioned for. I would happily audition for it and I'm positive I can prove myself."

Hall sighed and sat back in his chair. Bitty felt his face flush and looked down at his feet.

"Eric, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to tell you that it was a mistake to bring you to group practice so soon. You picked up the routine incredibly fast and I rushed the timeline more than I would for any other performer because you did so well so quickly. I wanted to suggest we take you back to individual practice for another week or two."

Bitty looked up only briefly; Hall looked disappointed.

"You have tremendous talent, Eric."

"I still think it would be better for everyone if I tried out to be a dancer," said Bitty quietly.

"If that's what you want, I'll give Murray a call. I'll let you know what he says."

Bitty didn't meet Hall's eyes before he left the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's a video](https://youtu.be/XopcEk6rfPo) of the windmills Bitty was working on during training.


	4. Chapter 4

At four o'clock in the morning Bitty was asleep in his bed when a loud, cacophonous knocking jolted him awake. He sat up, Shannon's blanket wrapped tightly around him, and stared at the front door as if he could see the knocking instead of just hear it. He looked at the time on his alarm clock — it was far too early for someone to be visiting him, and even further, nobody knew his address.

It had to be a robber, but in the ensuing seconds as the fog cleared from his thoughts, he realized that was ridiculous. A robber would either barge in or be much more quiet, so this more than likely was someone he knew. Just in case, however, he picked up his phone to have 911 at the ready when he got to the door. When he picked up his phone he saw the texts, time stamped over the last five minutes.

      **617-555-1501**  
     Hey it's Jack Zimmermann  
  
      **617-555-1501**  
     From Samwell  
  
      **617-555-1501**  
     I'm outside  
  
      **617-555-1501**  
     Let me in?  
  
      **617-555-1501**  
     Bittle. Open your door.  


Bitty stared at the texts in disbelief. A robber would actually have made much more sense than Jack Zimmermann outside his apartment door at four-eighteen on a Sunday morning. He wrapped the blanket around himself and set his feet on the floor, which was a mistake because his floor was freezing. He put on a pair of socks and trotted the three steps to his door, where the knocking persisted.

He peered through the peephole, just in case, but sure enough Jack Zimmermann stood on the other side, dressed in a beanie, a hooded sweatshirt, and workout pants. Bitty opened the door.

"Finally," said Jack.

"What are you doing here?" Bitty asked, too tired for pleasantries.

"Good morning to you too," said Jack. "Can I come in?"

Bitty stepped to the side without a word and let Jack in. He entered the apartment and thankfully didn't look it over, because it was a mess of dirty laundry and somewhat unpacked boxes. When Bitty closed the door again Jack made no attempt at conversation.

"So did you just really have the urge to wake me up in the middle of the night or are you here for a reason?" Bitty asked.

"No, I have a reason," said Jack. "Hall told me last night that you're taking a dancing role."

"Oh," said Bitty. He sat back down on his bed. "Yes."

"You know that's a bad idea, right?" Jack asked.

"I thought you of all people would be pleased by this."

"Pleased? You're not a dancer. You're an aerialist. You were built to fly and now you're throwing it away so you can, what? Take a pay cut and lose stage time?"

"What I choose to do is none of your —"

"I watched your audition tape," Jack interjected.

The room was quiet. Bitty could hear nothing but the snow plow on the street below and Jack's harried breathing, which had increased in tempo as their conversation progressed. Bitty stared into his icy blue eyes and Jack did not look away.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"The tape you sent in. You're the first performer we've hired without an in-person audition and I had to know what they saw in you that was enough to bypass that step, especially after what happened in rehearsal last week. I get it. You're brilliant. You were brilliant. I don't know what's different now but I saw what you can do and I'm not going to let you throw that away. Dancers are a dime a dozen. What you can do is unique."

"I don't know what you think you saw but I can't do anything, Jack."

"Get dressed, we're going to Faber."

"Why?" Bitty asked.

"You're going to show me that you can do what I think you can do. What I know you can do. Get up."

"It's four o'clock in the morning!"

"And I have rehearsal at seven. We're losing time."

"I'm not getting up."

"Do you really want to be a dancer for the rest of your life?" Jack asked. Bitty continued to stare at him, at his stupid blue eyes and his ridiculous cheekbones only highlighted by his beanie, and then sighed.

"No," said Bitty.

"Then let's go."

Twenty minutes later they entered Faber, Bitty dressed in every sweater out of his suitcase and three pairs of socks. He blew into his bare hands for warmth but even his bones felt cold. Jack, on the other hand, just rolled his eyes and told him to take off some of the layers before they got on the silk. Bitty undressed to his T-shirt, compression tights, and only one pair of socks. While Bitty stretched, Jack prepared the room for them, sliding the unnecessary silks to the far ends of the aerialist area and then securing Bitty's.

Bitty stared at the fabric that Jack placed in his hands. The cold did more than a cup of coffee to awaken him, but the watery feel of nylon against his skin still made him tremble. Without warning, Jack hoisted Bitty up by the waist and tossed him into the air, effectively requiring him to hold on tight in order to prevent a fall.

"Jack!" Bitty yelled.

"Get up there. You know your routine, right?"

"Yeah, but —"

"Then show me."

Bitty looked down at the ground; he was two feet off of it and had not prepared himself to be in such a position. His sides burned at the ghost of Jack's touch and his lungs hurt, as if he were breathing hard in the winter air. He lowered himself down. Jack groaned and hoisted him back up, this time higher, throwing Bitty like he weighed nothing. "No, Jack —"

"Just show it to me once, Bittle," said Jack, and Bitty took one long, deep breath before he climbed up to the top of the silk and wrapped himself in his first position. Jack walked over to the rigging controls and looked up at him. Bitty swallowed hard to force his emotion down his throat and then began his routine. He ignored Jack through the entirety of the twelve minute sequence, even the parts where Jack would have been involved. When Bitty climbed back up to the top of his silks and Jack raised him up out of view of the stage, he felt calmer, but not necessarily proud of himself.

"That was technically fine," said Jack, "but you had no emotion whatsoever."

"You didn't ask for emotion," called Bitty from fifty feet in the air.

"I asked for your routine. That means everything. Do it again."

For the first time that morning, Bitty felt warm as his blood began to boil underneath his skin. He rewrapped himself into starting position and then looked down at Jack, who had a hand on the rigging controls. Jack looked just as angry as he had every time Bitty ever interacted with him, including that first night at the show, including at rehearsal. It was so different from his expression onstage — the Man was curious, fearful, and gentle, and he used his expressions to let the audience in on every emotion. Jack was harsh and taciturn.

With difficulty, Bitty settled his face into a soft, calm expression and began again. It was easier this time, the extensions of his legs longer, the transitions more fluid. He could feel each movement from the arch in his back to the point of his toes. Twelve minutes after it began, he looked down with the beginning of a smile on his face, expecting praise. Instead Jack's eyes were narrow, his lips pursed, his hands on his hips.

"Lord in heaven, what now?" Bitty asked as he slid down the silks and onto the floor.

"That was perfect," said Jack.

"And that's a problem?" Bitty snapped.

"Yes. It's a problem that you were perfect and nobody will ever see it because you're a dancer now."

The fury Bitty had been containing all morning bubbled up into his throat and he couldn't keep it any longer. He was too tired, too sore, and too cold, and Jack stared at him with disdain for absolutely no reason. "You have no say in what I choose to do in my life, Jack. You don't even know me. You have no idea what I've gone through these past few weeks."

"I know you've given up on what you do best."

"I can't do anything at my best right now. Shannon is dead, Jack. She was the first person to speak to me after I left home. She let me live with her, she gave me food, she gave me clothes, she was absolutely everything to me and I was there when she fell and she is GONE and you don't understand what that feels like. It doesn't matter if you think I'm a waste. I chose to be a dancer because that's all I can do right now. I can't… I can't do anything else."

Jack's expression softened and he nodded.

"Then we'll work on it until you can."

 

***

 

Bitty looked himself over in the mirror. The effect was eerie, even on his own body. He turned to the side and a 2D painting came to life. The thick streaks of paint both on his clothes and skin caught the lights around the mirror, removing the depth from his natural curvature and flattening him against the background of the dressing room. When he shifted, the movement of his body felt as if it weren't something that should be able to occur, and it hurt his head a little bit to focus too much on himself. A thrill shot up his spine as he thought about it; there he was, dressed in full costume, about to perform in his first show with the Samwell Circus Troupe.

The costume changes would be the hardest part of the performance. The steps he had down in a week, the group rehearsals felt good from the get go, and he hadn't had a single nervous breakdown since he let go of the silks. This would be fun and easy, but changing leotards and adding layers of paint between each of the acts sounded daunting. The crew was there to help, and in both dress rehearsals he transformed with time to spare, but the thought of having just a few minutes to switch from a wood nymph to a poppy flower to a cloud seemed impossible.

He heard a shout for "Places!" and ran out of the dressing room with the other dancers to stage right. He stood there, his stomach a flurry of excited butterflies, and attempted to set his face to be performance ready, but the smile kept creeping onto his lips. He caught eyes with Jack, dressed in his white button-down and slacks. It helped; Jack, who had awoken him at four o'clock in the morning nine times since their first session, did not look pleased.

"Break a leg, Jack," said Bitty pleasantly. Jack just frowned and kept walking by. Bitty chose to ignore him; Jack couldn't take away this excitement. Bitty set his face, the music started, and he waited for his cue to flutter on stage underneath March, who flew gracefully on her swing.

The first act went well; Bitty made no mistakes and felt no nerves during his entire routine. The first moment out on the stage in front of the sold out audience rekindled the fire inside of him that he'd forgotten about these past few weeks since he'd been able to perform. Their reaction, the looks of awe on the children's faces, the surprise and amusement on the adults, all of that was worth leaving his family and living close to poverty for three years. His family couldn't understand the warmth of stage lights and the ecstacy of admiration. He lived the life he wanted to live, and in that moment, when he looked out into the audience and then leapt to stage left, he was grateful he never gave up on this.

"How you doing, Bits?" asked Ollie, who along with Wicky was the only other dancer in every sequence with him. Ollie unzipped the back of Bitty's costume and turned to have him do the same.

"I am so good," said Bitty. The two of them ran to the dressing room and quickly threw on their next leotards, then picked up awaiting paint brushes to cover the deep forest green with a brighter, grassier green, the brown with red, the white with yellow. Once transformed into a poppy flower rather than tree bark, Ollie, Wicky, and Bitty raced back to stage right, ready for the second act with two minutes to spare.

From his position offstage Bitty was able to witness Jack hurl himself into a pile of mud, which was at the very least satisfying. The stage began to slowly rotate and Bitty watched as Jack came into view of the audience. Camilla entered from the opposite side of the stage and coaxed Jack out of the mud. Bitty trotted on stage and began his third routine of the night, twirling around Jack and frequently stepping in between he and Camilla. Jack purposefully ran into him a few times, never enough to knock him over but always enough to allow him to spin the opposite direction and then grab Jack by the waist and flitter together several steps to stage right. After a few sequences of this, Bitty picked up a wire and secured it to the back of Wicky's costume, and then ran away as Wicky was vaulted into the air and out of view.

Bitty waited just off stage, breathing hard, as Lardo and the three other poppy petals began to slowly drift down from the rafters onto the stage, their bodies light as air. Other petals were projected onto the grassy backdrop, floating back and forth in the wind just like the aerialists. Bitty glanced into the audience and saw a little girl, no more than eight, with a dress the color of his costume, enraptured at the sight of the aerialists drifting weightless on their silks.

He felt an overwhelming pull to be with them. The night had been perfect thus far; he had no mistakes, he could feel the music and the movement naturally emit from him, but it was easy. It was safe. What Lardo and the others were doing on stage — that would be a challenge. That would be progress forward. Bitty could feel emotion well in his eyes when Lardo dropped fifteen feet through the air and the crowd gasped. He could have been the cause of that gasp. Instead he stood offstage with nothing but his feet to make an impression, one out of a dozen dancers in this sequence alone — no one would remember him when they left. Lardo, though… that little girl in the red dress would remember her when she went home, and Bitty had given it up because he was too much of a coward to challenge himself again.

Just before he was set to run forward and began his next routine, Jack fell backward, secured by silk, and faced Bitty, albeit upside-down. Jack looked directly in his eyes and Bitty got the message loud and clear. He looked away and set his face before he ran onstage.

About forty minutes later the curtain dropped for the final time and the performers began hugging each other in congratulation for another successful show. Bitty turned to Ollie and Wicky, but they were fist bumping each other. Before he could get in a word with them, Lardo came barreling toward him and slid to a stop next to him.

"You were fantastic, Bits," she said.

"Lord, I'm exhausted," said Bitty, feeling it in his bones for the first time now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off.

"Well don't get any ideas of sleep because we have to go to the Haus."

"Whose house?" Bitty asked.

Lardo laughed. "No, _the Haus_. It's a bar. We go there after every show. Come on, get your paint off and let's go."

Bitty followed her to the dressing room and began removing paint from his face and arms. Twenty minutes later he was ready, only wearing two sweaters this time since it was above freezing outside. "Ransom and Holster are meeting us there. Holster got paint in his eye. Again. I think Chowder's coming too."

"Anyone else?" Bitty asked and hoped Lardo didn't know he was asking about one person in particular.

"Everyone is usually there at some point. Gets pretty slammed after shows. Dex and Nursey have probably been there since the third act."

Bitty followed Lardo out the stage door. He shivered violently and pulled his hat further down on his head. It was the only one he owned that actually covered his ears, a red Georgia Bulldogs knit cap that he found in Shannon's room before he left. He debated leaving it behind, since it didn't belong to him and thus did not belong to anybody, but it was his best decision out of everything he decided to bring with him, since it was the warmest item of clothing he owned.

The Haus was just one block over, a shitty looking basement bar with beer signs in the windows. Part of the H in the neon sign above the door was broken so it looked like it was printed in lowercase, which actually made it seem slightly more charming. The inside was larger than Bitty expected, however, with a long bar on the west wall and plenty of seating in the main room. A half wall separated the seating from the recreational area, containing a dance floor, three pool tables, and four dart boards. Most of the tables were full and the bar was three deep, but Bitty recognized everyone in the room. It wouldn't surprise him if the cast of _Nature_ single handedly kept this place in business.

He was surprised, however, to be let in without a single person checking his ID. He was nineteen years old, twenty in a few months, but even so he didn't look a day over sixteen. He would probably be carded at the bar, which was fine, since he didn't really need to drink anyway. However Lardo nodded to someone Bitty couldn't see, held up two fingers, and then directed him to a table on the opposite side of the room near the half wall and dance floor.

About five minutes after they sat down a man appeared at the table with two bottles of Sam Adams in his hand, which he set on the table in front of Lardo and Bitty. He looked to be about Jack's age in his face and gait, but the mustache aged him several years. His brown hair was down to his shoulders, longer than Lardo's. He tipped his chin up to her before he looked expectantly at Bitty.

"Shits, this is Bitty. Tonight was his first show," said Lardo. "Bitty, this is Shitty."

"Oh, you're Shitty," said Bitty. Shitty laughed louder than necessary.

"See I've made an impression already!" he said. "Lards, what have you told him about me?"

"Just that you're the worst," she said before she took a sip of beer.

"Well, m'dude," said Shitty and he clapped Bitty on the back, "tonight's on me, since you're new to the show and all, but don't expect the beer to be free in the future."

"Thank you," said Bitty. He took a sip of beer; he was used to whatever they could get for cheap in Atlanta, which was usually Keystone or Busch Light, and it was always terrible but did the job. This, on the other hand, actually had flavor to it.

Shitty looked back at Lardo. "Jack come tonight?" he asked.

Lardo glared at him and Shitty put his hands up. "Shits," she said. "In the two years we've been running this show have you ever seen Jack here?"

"I gotta ask! You never know if things will change."

"How do you know Jack if he never comes here?" Bitty asked.

"Jack lives in our building," explained Lardo.

"And he's been my best bro since… I don't know. Since always," said Shitty.

"Really?" Bitty asked. Shitty laughed uproariously at the look on Bitty's face; Bitty had made no attempt to disguise his feelings, but he suddenly felt sheepish for not masking some of it if Shitty and Jack were indeed friends.

"I know, he's a little weird," said Shitty. "You've gotta warm up to him. I promise in the end he's a good guy and a good friend."

"Okay," said Bitty with a shrug.

"All right, I've got to get back to it, I'm sure they're dying up at the bar without me. Nice to meet you, Bits. I'm sure I'll see you around." Bitty nodded to him and Shitty hurried back to the bar on the west wall, where the patrons were still lined up in need of drinks. Bitty looked across the table at Lardo.

"He and Jack are really friends?"

"Jack isn't a bad guy," said Lardo. Bitty pursed his lips together from making further comment, but supposed what Lardo said had some truth to it. Jack had been persistent and demanding of Bitty for the past few weeks, but nowhere in those early morning sessions did he ever insult Bitty's progress again. Lardo held out her bottle toward Bitty. "Cheers, bro. Here's to your first of many performances with the Samwell Circus Troupe."

Bitty clinked his bottle against hers and they both drank deep. He looked over the half wall and into the entertainment area where Dex was attempting to throw darts, one eye closed, his tongue out the side of his mouth. Just as he pulled his arm back to throw it, Nursey tipped his elbow and the dart went wide of the board. Dex shoved him. "Stop cheating!" he yelled. Nursey laughed and zipped his lips. Dex stared at him until he took a few more steps away, which was how Dex caught eyes with Bitty the first time.

"Oh hey!" he called, the anger quickly draining from his face. "Come play darts with us."

"Sure! Can Lardo play too?" Bitty asked. Dex and Nursey both looked apprehensive about this but agreed, and Lardo jumped off her stool with an evil grin on her face, the same kind she employed when she absolutely crushed both Ransom and Holster at Call of Duty the first night Bitty hung out with them. Bitty understood their apprehension one beer later when he and Lardo had completely smoked Dex and Nursey, who were both over a hundred points away from zero when Bitty hit the double twenty to end the game.

"This isn't fair," muttered Dex when the board lit up to celebrate Bitty and Lardo's win. "We're literally jugglers. We literally need to throw precisely in order to do our job."

"Yeah but we're usually not four beers in when we throw sharp knives at each other," said Nursey.

"You're four beers in," said Dex. "I'm still on on my first. Bitty, you want another one?"

"Absolutely," said Bitty, and he and Dex headed toward the bar, which was less busy now that the rush of cast members had subsided and people were seated. "I think it's crazy what you and Nursey do, with the juggling. Are you ever worried he's going to hit you in the face?"

"I worry every day he's going to hit me in the face," said Dex firmly, but then he turned to Bitty. "That's not true. Nursey's infuriating and clumsy as hell when he doesn't focus, but I quite literally trust him with my life when we're performing. When he's on stage he's like a different person. I wish he was like that more off stage too."

"How long have you two been together?" Bitty asked and Dex's eyes narrowed. "Partners, I mean. Performing partners. In the show."

"Three years. We were part of the show before we started running _Nature_."

"Oh? What was it before?"

Dex ordered two beers from the bartender, who was not Shitty. She looked at Bitty warily but still served them. They didn't move from the bar as Dex began to speak again: "It was pretty good, I think, but it wasn't anything like this. It was mostly just a bunch of acts put together in some order, but there wasn't a story. It was more 'and now here's Will and Derek with their fire knives' and then 'now here's Chris and Caitlin doing Icarian Twirls.'"

"Yeah, that's kind of how it was in Atlanta," said Bitty.

"So you know how it is. Hall and Murray played host and announcer and it was fine, and we filled seats because the performances were good, but it wasn't anything special. But then you get a name like Jack Zimmermann and things change, and they change fast. I was worried when I first heard the story. A guy falls in love with nature? The whole thing's a metaphor for addiction? It seemed kind of hokey to me, but then it came together and it was just...amazing. We change it up a little bit during hiatus every season and I swear it keeps getting better every time."

"Huh," said Bitty. "So Jack is the reason there's a story?"

"Yeah," said Dex. He lifted the bottle of beer to his mouth but stopped, his eyes on the bar's entrance. "Oh, there's Chowder. I was wondering when they were going to get here. Chowder! Farmer! Come here! You guys have met Bitty, right?"

"Yeah!" said Chowder as he headed over, Farmer close behind, both of them wearing wide smiles. "Hey Bitty! You were awesome tonight."

"Thank you, Chowder," said Bitty, "but I was just dancing."

"Do you think you're going to be an aerialist again in the future?" Chowder asked. Bitty grimaced and Chowder noticed. "I'm so sorry. Hey, we should do some dancing. Farmer's way better than me but you can teach me. Do you want to dance with me, Bitty?"

"It's fine, Chowder," said Bitty, and he put his hand on Chowder's back to usher him toward Lardo and Nursey. "Let's go dance. Dex, why don't you pick out some music?"

"Um, no offense, but you might not want him picking the music," said Chowder and Dex smacked him in the arm.

"I'll do it," said Farmer and she trotted off toward the jukebox. Back in the entertainment room, Nursey was watching Lardo as she practiced bulls eyes but both happily joined in the dancing as Bitty attempted to show Chowder what to do.

"Stop flailing so much," said Bitty as he set his hands on Chowder's arms; Farmer stood next to him, her cheeks red and her eyes wet with laughter. Chowder eventually got the hang of it. Ransom and Holster appeared twenty minutes later with beer for everyone, and Bitty let himself relax, dancing in a bar with people he could someday call friends.

 

***

 

Ransom had a firm grip on Bitty's shoulders while Holster dug through Bitty's hoodie for his keys, then opened the front door and pulled Bitty inside. The room had the kind of tilt to it that made Bitty feel like he was going to slide all the way through it, out the window, and onto the street. When Ransom let go of him, however, he stayed in place and did not slide in any direction.

"How you feel, man?" Ransom asked.

"Tired," said Bitty.

"Drink some water," said Holster with a gesture toward the kitchen. Ransom searched the cabinets until he found a glass, filled it with tap water, and then handed it to Bitty. Bitty drank it all in one go and then moseyed to his bed.

"You're going to have a hell of a headache in the morning," said Holster. "Just remember to come to practice."

"I'll be there," said Bitty as he sat on his bed. He kicked off one of his tennis shoes and then the other. "I'll always be there. I'm never leaving y'all."

"Good," said Holster. "Because we like you."

"I like you too," said Bitty.

"See you in the morning, Bits," said Ransom. Bitty saluted them as they left. Once the door shut, Bitty looked at the foot of the bed and the tie blanket that was neatly folded there. He picked it up and wrapped it around himself before he lay on the bed, his head on his pillow.

"You would have been so proud of me tonight," he whispered into the ties that were closest to his mouth. "You should have seen me. You should have been there with me." He cried quiet tears and pulled the blanket tighter around his body. "I wish you were here."


	5. Chapter 5

As the weeks went on, Bitty fell into a groove. While he never truly felt nervous, his jitters had worked their way out of his performance and the moves came effortlessly. His mind cleared of all thought while he was onstage, and the high of the shared applause carried him to bed every night. The paychecks came biweekly, less than what he was used to in Atlanta but enough to cover his rent, meals, and beer at the Haus. It was, however, becoming incredibly boring. His routine never varied. The two quick changes, which were initially challenging, now happened seamlessly. He always had ample time to make his next cue, but there was still that moment during Act Two when Jack would fall into a drop, connect eyes with him, and remind him where he really should be.

At four-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday Bitty was ready when Jack knocked. Bitty pulled his hat over his ears before he opened the door. Jack stood on the other side, his hands on his hips. As usual, he looked wide awake yet impassive, his expression unreadable. 

"Ready?" Jack asked.

"Yes," said Bitty.

"It's almost forty out, you don't need six layers," said Jack. Bitty looked over Jack's attire, just his usual sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt with the word  _ Nature _ printed on it.

"It's not six layers," refuted Bitty, but as the two of them headed down the hall to the elevator, Bitty mentally counted to ensure he wasn't wrong.

Most of the time Bitty could convince Jack to drive to Faber; it usually only took a couple of exaggerated shivers and Jack would concede to taking the truck, but even Bitty could feel the difference in the air when they reached the street. He still stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweater and tucked his nose beneath the collar.

"You need a winter coat, Bittle," Jack said.

"I need to pay my rent," said Bitty.

They arrived at Faber ten minutes later. Jack pulled off his sweatshirt and stuffed it in his locker, but Bitty took longer to undress. When he finally stripped to his compression tights and T-shirt, he turned to find Jack with a coy smile on his lips.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"I counted six," said Jack.

"You counted wrong," said Bitty. Jack opened his mouth but Bitty stepped toward the door. "Are we going to squabble all day about clothes or are we going to fly?"

"You tell me," said Jack, the mirth gone from his tone as the two of them headed into the studio. "Do you want to fly today?"

"Yes," said Bitty as soon as they entered the room and he saw the silk in front of him.

They'd gone back and forth dependent on Bitty's mood, and while Jack always pushed him to climb up to the top, the amount of time Bitty spent on the silks was never contested again. Bitty rushed forward, grabbed hold of the closest rig, then climbed as quickly as he could to the top while Jack cleared the floor.

Bitty had just tied himself in when Jack approached his tails and gently took hold of them. Bitty let his hands go and sat in the sky. Jack's expression was hard to read again, but he didn't look impassive any longer. Even from this distance Bitty could see the top of his head, into his thick black hair, and down his nose to his lips, which were pursed tightly together. Bitty didn't dare move with Jack holding onto his tails like that; anything Bitty did could rip the silks right through his hands, and Jack's hands were too important to potentially harm in such a way.

"What's up, Jack?" Bitty asked.

"How well do you know Camilla's part?" Jack asked.

Bitty crinkled his eyebrows in confusion, but even as he attempted to say "Not at all," he realized from weeks of watching that he could remember some specifics of her sequences as if he'd done them himself.

"Somewhat," Bitty chose to say instead.

Jack's expression softened and he broke into the kind of smile that crinkled his eyes. "How about the big scene at the end of Act Two?"

Bitty thought about it and it felt familiar. "Somewhat," he said again.

"Come down here," said Jack. He fluffed the silks before he let go, and Bitty somersaulted forward before he climbed back down. They sat together on a mat on the floor, facing a television on a stand. Jack skipped to the end of the second act, when the Sprite freed the Man from the poppies. On the screen Jack sat on the grassy floor of the stage, rubbing his ankle, as Camilla took hold of the silks and began her routine to a tune much different than the rest of the musical accompaniment for the show. While the song still employed fiddles and a guitar like many of the other sequences, this song was quiet and slow with lyrics in what Bitty assumed was French. 

Bitty watched as Jack stared at the Sprite in awe, who demonstrated how to use the wind to float around the perimeter of the stage. Camilla was graceful, fluid, using the silk as an extension of herself. When she picked Jack up off the ground and the two of them flew together, Jack was weightless, like Camilla could actually control his flight. With every passing moment Jack grew more and more comfortable in the sky, more the master of the updraft rather than a captive of it. The two of them twirled, posed, and dropped together, working as a unit, complementing the other's motion, the extension of one leading to the extension of the other, until they wrapped their arms around each other, their gaze locked, and then rotated slowly back to the earth, moments away from a first kiss that would never actually come.

Jack paused the video and Bitty blinked a few times; he had never seen the sequence in such detail before, having always needed to run away to change, or in the account of his only audience viewing of the show, needing to talk himself down from a panic attack. "What do you think?" Jack asked.

"We can try it. Do you know it? It's kind of long."

"Yeah," said Jack with a short laugh. "I know it."

Bitty returned to the silks, separated them with his hands, and then held the tails at his waist. Jack sat on the floor and transformed from mentor to actor in a simple arch of his back, point of his toes, and a new expression of doe-eyed vulnerability. It was so different from what Bitty was used to in this room with him; Jack looked to Bitty for guidance, a broken man Bitty saved from torment. As Bitty looked down at Jack, he couldn't help the wobble in his own lip.

"Now you show me how easy flying can be," said Jack quietly.

Bitty took a step back, wrapped the ends of the silk around his wrists, and then ran off in his widest stride until he had the momentum to lift from the ground and soar. "The rigging will lift you higher," called Jack. "Keep the emotion in your face."

Bitty flew the perimeter of the studio, frequently looking back to Jack to ensure he was still there on the ground and had not been captured by rogue poppy petals. When he reached the center of the room again he hiked the nylon further over his wrists until he was off the ground and looked down at Jack, whose posture had piqued, intrigued.

"You'll be brought up into the air kind of in a tornado, but slower. Do a few belays up there while you work your way into the first wrap and then you'll do a small slack drop. The point right now is that you're beautiful and I want to be with you. You're not afraid so I'm not afraid. After you drop the rigging will bring you back down to me and I'll want to join you."

Bitty climbed to the top of his rigging and then began to slowly and gracefully work himself into the first pose that he'd seen Camilla complete, which started upside down. As he slowly twisted his legs into the air he looked down at Jack, who kept in character, watching him with keen interest. It was easy to not be afraid there in the studio, just he and Jack, so Bitty smiled and waved at him. Jack laughed, just briefly, before he tried to reset his expression.

"I liked that," Jack said.

"Not really in character," said Bitty.

"Not for Camilla."

After securing his torso Bitty let his feet off the silk and brought them out in front of him, his toes pointed, to meet his hands and take the slack from there. "Hold that longer," said Jack. "This is all about speed and delivery, and you should be taking your time."

It was easier said than done, even for someone who'd been living in silks for the better part of three years. He could feel the pull in his core the longer he held himself with his own strength rather than with the strength of the fabric wrapped around him; Jack apparently wanted him sore and uncomfortable for that evening's performance. He slowed the pace, however, minding the straightness of his tails as he continued to revolve. A few minutes later when he'd successfully prepared himself for the drop, he reached out one hand to Jack and beckoned him to join as he let loose the slack around his chest and slid only about two feet down.

"The rigging will bring you closer to me," said Jack, "but yeah, when you drop down here I'll get up and join you." 

Bitty began to unravel from his drop and turned upside down again, then reached his arms out to Jack. Jack stood and took hold of Bitty's wrists securely. Jack jumped into the lift but Bitty still had to do most of the work to swing him up and onto the silk above Bitty, then loose his own body from the hold and join Jack in the air. Bitty rested his hands just above Jack's and they rotated together, looking into each other's eyes.

"I'm less familiar with this part," Bitty whispered. Regular speaking volume seemed excessive up here, off the ground, their bodies touching from chest to toe.

"Wrap me up so we don't fall," Jack replied, his volume just as low. "I'll get my own silk in a minute, after I learn to trust you."

"Do you trust me, Jack?" Bitty teased and Jack's lips curved upward again.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Bitty.

They secured themselves in place so they could loosen their hold on the fabric that surrounded them. Bitty looked back at Jack. "Now what?" he asked.

"Look at me like we're in love," said Jack.

"Am I supposed to fall in love with you?" Bitty asked. Jack's blue eyes looked over the expanse of Bitty's face, like he was searching for something. Bitty felt himself flush and quickly untangled their bodies; they were far too close to each other. "What next?"

"Next we'll be lowered to the ground and I'll get my own silk, then you teach me how to do pirouettes," said Jack. He set himself onto the ground.

"Ooh, I like pirouettes," said Bitty.

"Good," called Jack as he ran across the room to fetch another silk. "You're supposed to be good at them. This part is all about control, so do them as slowly and gracefully as you can. Show me first and then we'll do them together."

After Jack set his rigging up appropriately, he stood in between his two tails and watched Bitty timidly behind one of them. Bitty slowly set himself up, winding and twisting the silk around him while Jack looked on, until he was upside down, his right foot above him, his left hand on his slack below him, his left foot and right arm pointed out to form an X with his limbs. He looked down at Jack, who stared back at him, and then fell as slowly and deliberately as he could, twisting his body around twice, all of his limbs still extended, until he ran out of slack and stopped, upside down, his eyes searching for Jack. He beckoned Jack to join him, and they climbed back into first position together. Bitty searched for him every step of the way, making every turn and wrap and cross of the silk a lesson that Jack could follow. Once they were in position, Bitty looked at Jack.

"Ready?" Bitty asked.

"Same speed," said Jack.

"You think you can go that slow? How good are you at this?"

"Better than you, Georgia," challenged Jack.

"All right, Canada. On three. One, two, three!" Bitty let go and kept an eye on Jack, who seemed to keep pace with him. They both hung upside down next to each other. "Was that in sync?"

"Felt like it," said Jack. He began swinging so he could reach Bitty, his fist out. Bitty bumped it when Jack was close enough.

"How do you know Camilla's part so well?" Bitty asked after Jack swung away. Jack laughed. "What?"

"I wrote the show, Bittle," said Jack.

"Wait, really?" Bitty asked.

"Yeah, I have a writing credit in the Playbill," said Jack. "You'd have known that if you ever actually opened it."

"I opened it," said Bitty, which was true, but he didn't remember anything that he read inside of it. Jack let himself back down to the ground and then Bitty did the same.

"I think that's enough for today. We can do the rest of it tomorrow," Jack said. "You're good at this."

"Thank you, Jack."

"See what you can do if you get out of your head for a bit?" Jack asked. "Don't you miss it?"

Bitty touched the silk behind him and sighed. "Yeah."

"Honestly, Bittle, I think it's time you stopped playing and got back up there."

Bitty didn't reply to him. He was already back in his head. He could hear Jack sigh next to him as they walked back into the locker room. Bitty picked up a towel and headed directly for the shower. Jack usually showered as well, but this time when Bitty turned off the water he was alone. All of the other stalls were empty and he hadn't been under for that long, so Jack must have skipped out without saying goodbye. He crinkled his nose; they'd come a long way since their first meeting, but Jack still had a lot to learn about social etiquette.

He redressed and then ate a large breakfast in the cafeteria. A few of the other dancers had arrived by now but Faber was still mostly empty. Bitty overall would have preferred to sleep in rather than have these morning clinics with Jack, but he did have to admit he hadn't felt the least bit nervous that morning as he and Jack navigated an unfamiliar routine. It was a step in the right direction and not at all boring, but the thought of actually doing that in front of others was still frightening.

After breakfast Bitty still had extra time so he took the long route back to the dance studio, down the hall past Hall and Murray's offices. Hall's door was open but Bitty didn't pay it any attention until he heard his name.

"Bittle, wait!" called Jack. Bitty turned; Jack stepped out of Hall's office, grabbed Bitty by the arm, and ushered him inside. Hall sat at his desk looking more confused than anything else. Jack turned back to Hall. "I was just telling Hall that he should give you your part back."

"I never took it away," said Hall. "Eric resigned."

"Yeah but you should let him have it again," said Jack with more conviction than Bitty had ever heard out of him before. "He's got it down. He can do it perfectly. My part AND his. You could put him in tonight and I guarantee it would work."

"Maybe not tonight," said Hall. "We need to adjust the others as well, but I haven't heard Eric say anything yet." Hall and Jack both looked at Bitty expectantly, who felt as if he'd been trapped in a corner.

"I, um…"

"You know the part, Bittle," said Jack.

"Well, yeah."

"And you've done it perfectly every day for weeks."

"Not  _ every  _ day."

"Well every time we've met."

"I don't know, Jack," said Bitty quietly. "Doing it in a studio with you is so much different than doing it in front of everyone else. In front of an audience."

"How is it different? We've run the music, we've run the rigging, all we haven't done is bring in the other four petal parts, which barely interact with your routine. Just get out of your head, Bits. You can do this."

Bitty took a deep breath and looked Jack in the eyes. Jack stared right back at him. "Okay," Bitty said. "Yes. If it's okay, I'll do it."

"I'm not saying it's okay yet," said Hall.

"I wrote the show with five poppy petals," said Jack, breaking eye contact with Bitty and looking at Hall. "It's meant to be that way. It brings that extra depth we've been missing for two years. Bittle can do it and I trust him. We're putting him back in."

"With all due respect, Jack, you're not the director —"

"This is my show," said Jack. "Bittle's in."

Jack left the room without another word. Bitty raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Yes, fine," said Hall. "I'll talk to Murray. It won't happen tonight so still go to dance rehearsal."

"Thank you," said Bitty. He ran out of the office and caught up with Jack. "You're sneaky, Mr. Zimmermann."

"You'll do the part well," said Jack. "And this is what you said you wanted, right? To fly again?"

"If I can keep my nerves down," said Bitty quietly. Jack set his hand on Bitty's shoulder.

"You can. You've got this and I've got your back, okay?"

"Okay," said Bitty. "Thank you, Jack."

"You did the work, Bittle."

Six days later Bitty sat on his bed, wrapped in Shannon's blanket, watching the snow as it fell outside. The adjustments to the show came rapidly; the dancers reverted to their routine before he came along but the aerialists needed more time to work him in, having been accustomed to the updraft sequence with only four petals. Three rehearsals later they all seemed to have it down; Bitty was the only one who needed to learn an entire routine. As Jack had said, Bitty knew his part already, so the transition happened seamlessly.

The nerves were back, however, not as bad as they had been those first few days with the troupe, but enough that he clutched his blanket close to him and prayed that he could make it through this performance without hurting anyone. He sat there and inhaled deeply; the blanket had lost all of her scent by now, taking on the smell of the heat the permeated the apartment. Bitty cracked open the window. The cold air and a few flurries rushed in, but more importantly the scent came with it — clean and crisp, almost refreshing. Bitty was not yet used to winter and worried he'd spend the rest of his days with shivers hammering at the inside of his bones, but he did rather enjoy the smell of the cold.

His phone buzzed and he snapped the window shut before he looked at it.

      **Jack**  
     Want a ride?  
  
      **Jack**  
     Something tells me you're not going to walk today.  
  


Bitty wanted to sneer at his phone but Jack spoke the truth; there was no way he was going to walk to the auditorium in any sort of snowfall, even if it was just flurries. He replied that he would in fact appreciate a ride,  _ Mr. Zimmermann _ , and gathered his things before he headed downstairs to meet Jack on the street.

He'd been in Jack's car only once over the course of their acquaintance and was surprised by it then too; he had no idea what the salary of the co-star and writer of the show was, but it must have been a considerable bump from an everyday aerialist or dancer if Jack could afford a vehicle with a symbol Bitty didn't recognize. When he sat down inside of it he practically melted into the leather beneath him.

"Figured you'd want the seat warmer on," said Jack with a smile.

"Thanks, Jack," said Bitty.

"You nervous?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't be. I think you could do this with your eyes closed."

"Yeah, I'm not doing this with my eyes closed," said Bitty.

"I'm just saying, you've got it. Don't lose your confidence in something silly like —"

"Like the star of the show telling you you're going to kill someone?" Bitty said. Jack quieted and Bitty felt the regret of his comment seep right into his body like the heat of the seat underneath him.

"I'm sorry I said that," Jack whispered. "I didn't know."

"I know," said Bitty. "I'm sorry. It's over."

"You shouldn't apologize," said Jack. "I'm trying to make up for it. Do you still hate me?"

"No, Jack," said Bitty with a quick shake of his head. "No, I don't. I never did."

"I saw the look on your face the first time I woke you up at four o'clock in the morning. I think you did a little."

"Okay, but only a little. You've made it up to me since then. Thank you for getting my job back."

"You got it back. I just refused to let you give it up."

Jack pulled into a parking spot at the theater. Unlike Bitty, who usually had to park down the street and hope for no tickets, Jack had his own space in the small lot. Bitty jumped out of the car and ran inside, his feet slipping a little on the icy sidewalk, but was back inside the heat before the cold had a chance to seep beneath his clothes. He and Jack parted and Bitty headed to the dressing room to put on his costume and makeup. The poppy petal costume was a little bit ridiculous compared to what he'd worn as a dancer, but it was meant to be more functional than realistic. He was another red petal, unlike Lardo who wore lilac, and didn't quite look like a flower petal unless he put his arms over his head, but the mechanics of his routine finished the illusion more than the costume itself.

"Looking good, Bits," said Lardo as he started applying paint to his face.

"Thank you," said Bitty. "Lardo, I'm super nervous."

"You've been great this week. Don't worry about it."

"Even so, I might run in the back and just do it one more time before we get on stage."

"Up to you, bro, but I don't think it's necessary." Lardo clapped him on the shoulder once before she returned to her station to get dressed. Once he finished the final streak of paint he ran quickly to the rehearsal room, which fortunately was unoccupied apart from a few crew members.

"Hey," called Bitty when he entered. "Is it possible for me to run through my first sequence real quick before curtain?"

One of the crew members looked at the time and nodded to him. Bitty pulled a silk into the center of the room and secured it before he climbed up to the top and wrapped himself in. He could feel the nerves in his hands and took several breaths to calm himself down; nervous hands led to mistakes, and he'd been mistake-free since Thursday.

Everything went well until he took a long breath and dropped into a double corkscrew. He felt it in his feet as soon as he let go, and instead of the silk securely catching him by his ankles, the fabric just slipped around one foot and he kept falling, further and further down until he felt his head hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music for Nature has a French Canadian theme (think fiddles and accordions). The Man and the Sprite's sequence at the end of Act Two, which Jack and Bitty practice here, is the only one in the show that references a specific song, and this is the only time lyrics are used. The song is _À la Claire Fontaine_ , [specifically this version.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpAGW3QBG-k)


	6. Chapter 6

Shannon fell, and fell, and fell.  Bitty felt her terror from the platform where he watched, hand outstretched, trying to reach her. It happened again and again without end. Shannon never hit the ground but never stayed with him. They had just been joking, making dinner plans, living their lives and then she hopped off the platform and that was it. Bitty lived a constant loop of panic until he felt the pain in his own head, which grew until he thought it would burst apart.

He opened his eyes and tears fell thick. Next to him lay Lardo, bleary eyed and clearly awake because of him. He took one look at her and sobbed, and she gently placed her arms around him, holding him firmly as he cried. 

"Hey, you're okay," she said quietly. "Calm down, Bits. You're fine."

Bitty eventually calmed, the wave of grief over along with the terror and some of the pain. He couldn't see her any longer and with that came its own sorrow, that Shannon wasn't immediately present every time he closed his eyes. He was beginning to forget little things, like the shampoo she preferred or the timbre of her voice, and he turned toward the TV tray for his phone to remind himself of her, but the tray wasn't there. There was much more bed and a headboard, and a door leading out of an actual bedroom. He remembered, and remembering hurt his head, that after the doctor cleared him to go home, Lardo swooped in and insisted he stay the night with her.

"Better?" Lardo asked when Bitty turned back to her.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You need water or something?"

"No," said Bitty. Trying to find Lardo in the darkness hurt as well, so he closed his eyes and let her find him instead. She put her hand on his arm and left it there. The intensity of his headache was beginning to subside — it must have been the way he was sleeping or the dream that caused it. As he lay with his eyes closed, it felt better. This bed was significantly more comfortable than his, the pillow some kind of cool memory foam that cupped his head and neck. It was a bed meant for two people, which made Bitty wonder.

"Where's Shitty? Is he on the couch?"

"No, he went upstairs to sleep with Jack."

Bitty was quickly confused, and confusion was painful, so he stopped the thought trains about to disembark and within a few minutes had fallen asleep again. He didn't dream.

Lardo unintentionally woke him at seven when she climbed out of the bed. He sat up slowly, ignoring her insistence that he go back to sleep. While she showered he perused her fridge for breakfast options. There were eggs, cheese, and spinach, so he started making omelets when the front door opened and a grouchy Shitty entered, half dressed and visually unkempt.

"I am never sleeping with you on work days again," muttered Shitty before he collapsed face-first onto the couch. Bitty looked at the door. Jack was there, already dressed for rehearsal. Jack visibly pinkened at the sight of Bitty.

"Oh," said Jack. "You're awake. Hi."

"Hi," said Bitty. He felt warm and flushed at the sight of Jack; they did not see each other after the accident. The show went on without Bitty and then once Lardo finished her part in Act Two, she met him in the medical room and brought him to her apartment. He hadn't been home and hadn't seen anyone else. He expected Jack to be angry, but Jack just looked timid and uncomfortable. Jack looked at Shitty, who'd curled onto the couch and possibly had already fallen asleep again, then hesitated before he stepped to the other side of the island and put his hands on the counter.

"How are you?" Jack asked.

"Not awful," said Bitty, which was the truth. His head hurt but it wasn't so bad he couldn't stand, focus on Jack, or make breakfast.

"I am so sorry," Jack said suddenly and Bitty stopped whisking eggs so he could concentrate on what he could have done to make Jack feel like he needed to apologize.

"For what?"

"For pushing you," said Jack, and he looked down at his hands while he said it. "You wanted to be a dancer and I made you fly again when you didn't want to. I pushed you into this role before you were ready. You were nervous because of me and that's —"

"Jack," interrupted Bitty, and he waited for Jack's eyes to meet his before he continued: "Thank you for pushing me."

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt if I hadn't."

"And I'd still be a dancer. So thank you."

Jack didn't appear to accept this but he didn't say anything more on the subject. Bitty finished whisking eggs and poured the first batch into a skillet, which sprung Jack into action. "Should you be doing this? I can make — well, I can't, but you shouldn't be doing this."

"Sit down, Jack. I might have a concussion but I can still make eggs." Jack stood close to Bitty's side, looking down at the skillet and the spatula in Bitty's hand with great disdain. Bitty nudged him away but he only took one step back. "Well," said Bitty, "if you're going to hover at least be useful. Can you chop up that spinach?"

Jack for a brief moment looked panicked, and the expression made Bitty smile. "Just make it smaller, Jack," said Bitty. "It doesn't have to be perfect."

Jack reluctantly turned to the island and Bitty watched him attempt to chop spinach with a steak knife, resulting in poorly cut leaves in varying degrees of wilt. It was both amusing and frustrating, but Bitty decided against correcting him. After Jack sprinkled part of the spinach onto the omelet with slices of cheese, he hovered again and watched Bitty fold the eggs over then slip them onto a plate. Jack set it on the counter at one of the stools.

"Shits, eat," Jack said.

Shitty, who may or may not have been asleep, hopped off the couch and dug into his omelet with plenty of satisfied moans of gratitude. Bitty started the second, Jack at his side again.

"How long did they say you're out?" Jack asked.

"Six weeks," replied Bitty.

"Christ, really?" Jack said and quickly put his hands up apologetically when Bitty looked at him. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry. That's just… we only have four weeks until hiatus and I was hoping for at least one show with you before then."

Shitty coughed loudly at the counter behind them. Bitty turned too fast and felt woozy; Jack held onto him to prevent a fall. "Stop," Jack insisted. "Sit down."

Bitty reluctantly sat at the counter. Jack attempted to finish the omelet but really only succeeded in making scrambled eggs, which he then gave to Bitty. It tasted all right. Jack made another for Lardo but nothing for himself, and then after Lardo finished, she and Jack headed to the door.

"Please rest while we're out," said Jack, as if he knew Bitty planned to clean up once they were gone. Bitty promised, but Jack looked pointedly at Shitty. "Make sure he rests while we're out."

"You got it, bruh," said Shitty with a lazy salute, and as soon as they were alone, he attempted to push Bitty toward the bedroom.

"No, I'm not tired," said Bitty.

"Don't care. You smacked your head less than twelve hours ago. Back to bed with you, Bits." Bitty continued to grumble and resist, but he and Shitty still ended up in the bed. Bitty didn't admit that he felt better now that he was back in it. Shitty unnecessarily adjusted the blankets around him. "He's just worried about you, you know."

"He's just worried about his show," said Bitty.

"Nah, bruh. He was beside himself last night. Asked me a bunch of questions like I'd seen you but you were asleep when I got home. He was worried something serious happened to you. He was much more resistant to my snuggles than usual."

Bitty opened his mouth to continue his protest, but then paused before he said, "Wait. You slept in the bed with him?"

"Yep."

"And that was not the first time you've done that?"

"Of course not. Every Sunday night is Jack and Shitty snuggle night. Did you not know this?"

"No!"

"Listen, Bits. He's not upset about the show. He's worried about you and so am I. Maybe let's just both take a nap and take it easy until Lardo's back, 'kay?"

Bitty frowned but agreed, and despite his resistance, fell asleep quickly.

 

***

 

It was a boring and slow recovery over the course of the next six weeks. Lardo did eventually let him go back home, but having spent several days with her and Shitty, his apartment felt much smaller and lonelier than it had before, and he didn't have a television to help pass the time. The only good thing about his injury was that he could attend the show as an audience member and see it again without having a panic attack, which meant he could appreciate everyone's part, having seen it from the other side. Jack was brilliant every night. He and Camilla had beautiful chemistry onstage, which made Bitty wonder if they were close offstage too, but he was unable to uncover any gossip on the two of them. 

The scene at the end of Act Two, which Jack had been teaching Bitty during their morning lessons before his fall, was by far his favorite. He was definitely not alone in that — almost every night the crowd broke into loud applause when the Man and the Sprite soared upward into the clouds and out of sight, sometimes lasting so long the transition to the next interlude had to be delayed. There was something magical about it, from Jack's vulnerability to Camilla's grace and patience to the music that accompanied their movement. The song was gorgeous, and despite being sung in French, it's message was clear: these two were in love.

Jack and Camilla were not the only impressive acts in the troupe. Dex and Nursey only performed twice, briefly at the beginning of the show and then again in the first interlude, but their lighting bolt juggling act was dangerous and breathtaking. Bitty, along with the rest of audience, frequently gasped when it looked like one of them was about to be hit in the face with fire, but they never made an error. Ransom and Holster were the stars of the trampoline sequence in the third act, jumping back and forth between clouds with impressive flips and spins. Their sequence was possibly the most dangerous out of all, since if one of them needed an extra bounce to reach an appropriate height they could hit each other in the air. 

He attended the show most nights, although it took him several tries to be able to sit through the entire performance since the music, lights, and constantly moving performers took a toll on his head. Even once he could sit through the whole ninety minutes, he always had to leave right away and go to bed. After the final performance of the season Bitty ran backstage to hug his castmates on a successful run of the show. Lardo hugged him tightly, Ransom and Holster both were enthusiastic but careful with him, and even Dex allowed a short embrace. "You coming to the Haus with us?" Lardo asked when Bitty let go of Chowder, who needed an extra-long hug since he was a little teary-eyed.

"I don't think so," said Bitty, thinking about how much his head would pound in an environment dominated by loud music. 

"You can come back to our place," said Nursey, nodding toward Chowder, Farmer, and Dex.

"Maybe tomorrow," said Bitty. "Just watching y'all made me exhausted."

"I'll hold you to that," said Nursey. Bitty believed it, so when he awoke the following day, he packed a reusable grocery bag with strawberries, rhubarb, and his usual crust ingredients, then walked four blocks south to Dex, Nursey, Chowder, and Farmer's building. The four of them lived further away than Ransom and Holster, but their apartment building felt similar to Lardo's, more dedicated to housing rather than tacked on to another building as an afterthought. Their apartment was also the biggest out of anyone's that Bitty had seen thus far with an actual hallway splitting into two bedrooms. When Bitty walked in, Dex was moving a pillow and blanket from the couch into a basket under an end table.

"What's that?" Dex asked, eyeing the grocery bag.

"Oh, I just figured I'd bake a little something while I was here," said Bitty and he set the bag on the counter. 

"Dude, we invited you to chill, not to make us food," said Nursey. "You still have a concussion."

"I can make pie," said Bitty with a wave of his hand. He opened up cabinets in search of mixing bowls and, as expected, didn't find any. There was an obnoxiously large plastic bowl in one of the lower cabinets that smelled like popcorn and clearly had been never used for anything else, so Bitty gave it a quick wash before he set it on the counter and began dumping ingredients into it. Nursey didn't protest any further but Dex rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and asked how he could help.

"You can chop up this rhubarb," said Bitty, and then upon remembering Jack's horrible chopping skills the morning after his injury, added, "try to make it even."

"Okay," said Dex, and to Bitty's surprise he began chopping the rhubarb into even pieces without much difficulty. "Are you feeling better? How much longer are you going to be out?"

"I saw the doctor the other day and he said I'm getting better but I'm not allowed to practice yet," said Bitty with a frown. The headaches were considerably less frequent now, but just the effort of going to the show the night before, talking to everyone, and then going home left him exhausted. He slept later than he wanted to that morning, but was able to walk to the apartment with no additional pain.

"Well at least you're not missing anything right now," said Dex.

"How long is hiatus?" Bitty asked. "This isn't something we did back in Atlanta."

"Just a month," said Dex. "Gives people the opportunity to really hone any improvements they want to make, lets people take some time off if they want. Nurse and I have been throwing around the idea of changing up our interlude."

"Yeah, if you'll let me," said Nursey from the couch.

"If you'll come up with a better idea than just 'more knives,'" Dex shot over his shoulder. He easily caught the remote that Nursey chucked at his head and flung it back; Nursey caught it and put it back on the coffee table.

"People always end up quitting over hiatus too," said Nursey. "You always end up with a handful of people wanting to move on or get a less demanding job."

"That's annoying," said Bitty.

"Is what it is," said Nursey with a shrug. "Better they do it during hiatus than in the middle of the run. It's annoying as hell to try to replace someone mid-season. At least during hiatus we can rework their sequences or try to find someone else."

"Well I don't want to rework my sequence," said Bitty. "I just want to actually perform my sequence. I'm going crazy not being able to do anything all day. Dex — look at you! Those look perfect!"

Dex pinkened at the compliment and slid over the cutting board of perfectly chopped rhubarb. Bitty handed him the strawberries to dice as well, and they had just put everything together when Chowder entered the living room from the hallway.

"Oh, Bitty! Hi!" said Chowder and he bounced into the kitchen in greeting. "Is that pie? That looks amazing!"

"You should have come out sooner, Chowder, you could have helped too," said Bitty.

"You probably don't want me to help," said Chowder. "How long does that have to bake for?'

"About thirty-five minutes, depending on your oven," said Bitty.

"Okay, cool. Come to my room, Bitty, I want to show you something." Bitty followed Chowder into the hallway. The doors to both bedrooms were open; the first looked unkempt with dirty laundry all over the floor, and Bitty initially thought this was Chowder and Farmer's room due to the one double bed, but Chowder turned the opposite direction and walked into the room across the hall. This room also had a double bed and to Bitty's surprise was practically wallpapered with posters. Bitty looked at each of them; they were all of Cirque du Soleil shows. 

"Oh wow," said Bitty. "Do you have a poster from every show?"

"Not every one, but all of the Vegas ones and some of the other residence shows. Farmer wants to get some from the travelling acts but we have this rule that we can't actually buy one unless we've seen it, and we haven't seen any of those yet. I think there's one coming to Boston soon. Pretty cool, huh? Look, this is the first one Farm and I saw together when we were still in school. Her parents took us to Disney and it's where we saw people doing Icarian twirls for the first time." 

Chowder pointed at a poster of  _ La Nouba _ , which had a long residency in Orlando at Disney World. Bitty looked at it; the clown was a little frightening. They didn't have clowns in Atlanta and Bitty was secretly grateful they didn't have clowns in  _ Nature _ either. "After we got home from Disney Farmer said she wanted me to try spinning her with my feet… It didn't go well for a while. We didn't want our parents to know what we were doing so we only did it in our bedrooms with the door locked. I remember one time her father tried to barge in on us but the door was locked and he got so mad. I had just gotten her up on my feet and I dropped her as soon as he started knocking."

"He probably thought you were having sex," said Bitty.

Chowder flushed. "Yeah, maybe, but we weren't."

"This is all pretty cool," said Bitty, gesturing to the room. He knew there were a lot of Cirque du Soleil shows but had never seen all of them displayed in a single room like this. When he turned to look back at the door, he noticed a framed poster from  _ Nature _ just to the left of it. It gave him pause; he'd always liked the promotional art for the show and passed by posters like this nightly in the auditorium lobby, but it was different to see Jack's face displayed like this, larger than life, in a room devoted to something so much bigger than a local independent show. Chowder had treated this poster with reverence, unlike the others, which were tacked to the wall with push pins instead of behind glass. Bitty approached it and looked in Jack's eyes, which looked back at him. This was not the Jack that woke him up in the mornings and worked him through difficult routines. This was not the Jack who told him to get with the program or quit. This Jack was vulnerable, broken, unconfident. Bitty wanted to join the Samwell Circus Troupe for reasons other than just his need for a job, and as he stared at the poster, he knew what those other reasons were.

"How'd you and Farmer come to Samwell?" Bitty asked, tearing his eyes away from Jack's.

"My parents were in it way back when," said Chowder. "It wasn't anything cool back then like it is now, and it wasn't something you could do for a living. After I stopped dropping Farmer every time I tried to spin her and we actually got good, we auditioned and got a job. It was right before Jack joined and everything got way better. But that's not what I wanted to show you. Here, I found this." 

Chowder handed Bitty a cardboard poster tube. Bitty popped off the plastic end and pulled out the contents. "We're going next week to see the one in Mexico and I was having a hard time finding an official poster, but while I was looking I found this and I thought you would like it — OH NO. I'm so sorry!" 

Bitty clutched the poster in his hands, hot and heavy tears falling out of his eyes and clearing his vision so he could see Shannon again. He'd seen this before where he used to perform back in Atlanta. Shannon was their star in so many ways that it was no surprise that she had a part in the poster along with a few of the others. There she was, wrapped in her silks, looking at the camera with fire in her eyes. She was vibrant and alive and Bitty missed her so much.

"I'm so sorry," said Chowder again, his eyes clouded with empathetic tears and he attempted to take the poster from Bitty's hands. 

"No," said Bitty loudly, as if Chowder was taking Shannon herself rather than just a poster. He gripped the edges tightly in his fists and Chowder let go quickly. "No, thank you, Chowder. I can keep this?"

"I got it for you," said Chowder.

Bitty nodded a few times, looking down at Shannon before he clutched the poster to his chest, more than likely wrinkling it in the process. "Thank you," he said again.

"I didn't think I was going to make you cry. Is that...is that her?"

Bitty nodded again.

"I didn't know. I have another frame in here somewhere if you want to hang it up at your place." Chowder quickly opened the closet door and rummaged through it before he emerged with a frame that looked like the one that sealed Jack's face. Bitty reluctantly let go of the poster and allowed Chowder to smooth it out and place it in the frame. When Chowder gave it back to him, Bitty couldn't take his eyes off of it.

"Are you okay?" Chowder asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Bitty, the tears now subsided and the moment past. He looked back up at Chowder. "I just didn't expect it. I really appreciate this. I don't have any pictures of her in our apartment. In my apartment."

Bitty hanged around until it was time to remove the pie from the oven, but as soon as it was out and everyone had been served a cooled slice, he quickly made an excuse to leave. Chowder stood apprehensively by the door as Bitty put on a few more layers, but Bitty made a point to smile at him before he left, leaving the pie behind. He stopped at the drugstore on the way home for a hammer and nails, and immediately put up the poster in the best spot in the apartment — right above the bed, next to the window, where he could see her face and miss her all over again.


	7. Chapter 7

At his next appointment with the troupe doctor, Bitty was cleared to begin gentle practice in preparation to return to the show. Bitty walked home, staring at the sidewalk under his feet, his hands jammed into the pocket of his hoodie. The snow had all melted by now but it was still cold, and he hurried there, still unable to appreciate the city that surrounded him. When it was finally warm he'd look up for once, learn the history of the buildings and explore more of his neighborhood than just the grocery store and his friends' apartments. When he arrived home, he spotted Jack standing in the lobby waiting for the elevator.

"What are you doing here?" Bitty asked, despite very much knowing the answer.

"You can practice now, right?" Jack asked and Bitty suppressed an eyeroll at Jack's eagerness.

"Did you run here?" Bitty asked. Jack shrugged his shoulders but turned pink in the cheeks. "One hour a day until my appointment Thursday."

"I have an hour now," said Jack with a smile that he quickly hid. "If you want."

"I want," said Bitty. "Let me put on...not this."

They took the elevator upstairs to Bitty's apartment. As soon as he entered Bitty kicked yesterday's underwear under the bed so Jack wouldn't see. He walked to the closet and surreptitiously looked back; Jack was now studying the poster of the Atlanta Flying Circus above the bed. He changed into a pair of leggings then threw his jeans into the corner of dirty laundry. He also pulled on another sweatshirt.

"Is this her?" Jack asked, nodding toward the poster. 

Bitty looked at it. Despite his initial reaction when Chowder presented it to him, he hadn't cried about it since. It was nice to wake up and see her face again. Bitty nodded. 

"She's got good form," said Jack. "I can see why you liked her."

Bitty cracked a smile. "Of course you would only comment on her form," said Bitty. "Come on, let's go. Are we driving? It's cold." 

"It's fifty-two degrees," said Jack. Bitty pulled his arms tightly around himself and shivered for emphasis. "I didn't bring my car." Bitty just stuffed his keys into Jack's hand and headed to the side of the building. Jack held the passenger's door open for him but upon getting behind the wheel, said, "What is hell is this?"

"Shut up, it's an automatic," said Bitty. "When was the last time you drove a car without buttons?"

"It's my turn to make fun of you, Bittle, don't you turn this around on me," said Jack.

"Stop making fun of me, then," said Bitty. Jack just pressed his lips tightly together and drove to Faber without another word. Jack pulled over silks in the studio while Bitty removed layers, and Bitty noticed quickly that he set them up for the Sprite's sequence. Bitty gestured to them with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, did you want to do your routine?" Jack asked. "I suppose it's been a while."

"I still know it," said Bitty with a shrug. "Did you want to do this one?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "You almost had it down before…"

"Before I hit my head," said Bitty. "You can vocalize it, Jack. It's not a secret."

"I'm trying to be more delicate," said Jack and Bitty remembered the veiny, rougy rage that diminished Jack's beautiful features as he spat awful words back in January. Jack looked embarrassed to even admit this, so Bitty took the silks from him and began to twist them around his wrists.

"Maybe you run the rigging for me again this time," said Bitty. "Let me do the Sprite's whole routine for real, then we can adjust when you join me."

"All right," said Jack. "Tell me if you need a break."

Bitty waited for Jack to head toward the rigging control, but Jack didn't move. Bitty fluffed the silks in his hands. "Okay," Bitty said, but Jack still didn't move.

"You ready?" Jack asked. Bitty nodded impatiently. "Bittle. Are you really not nervous?"

"No, let's just go already!" Bitty snapped before he looked up at Jack. Jack was grinning at him and Bitty paused, blushed, and grinned back. Jack's grin expanded on his lips as he jogged toward the rigging control panel. Bitty waited for him to arrive before he took a step back and launched forward in a wide, sweeping run. He jumped into the air and soared around the studio, the warm air caressing his face, the fabric waving in the wind. He flew in a wide circle and relished in the overwhelming feeling of joy as he did. He had missed this.

 

***

 

It was only another week before Bitty was cleared to return to daily group rehearsal without restrictions. It would still be another three before the show returned from hiatus, but he was assured he would be ready for a full workload by then. Unfortunately six weeks of rest meant six weeks of atrophy, and Bitty felt sore from top to bottom after just a handful of workouts with Jack. It was going to be a long three weeks to get back into shape.

As he'd predicted, Bitty still remembered the intricacies of his routine and had no issues keeping up with the other poppy petals at the first group rehearsal. A few of them had already begun to brainstorm improvements, which Bitty had not yet learned, but by the time Jack joined them, he was able to keep up without error.

"Camilla here yet?" Lardo asked Jack from forty feet in the air.

"Haven't seen her," said Jack. "What're you working on?"

"Come here, I think Bits and I can wrap you in a better drop than the triple star in the second updraft." Lardo spun down her silk to the ground where she met Bitty. As the two of them began to wrap Jack intricately around his body, Hall entered the studio and called for everyone's attention.

"Hold up, we're wrapping Jack up like a mummy," said Lardo and then covered Jack's face.

"Wait, what?" asked Jack's muffled voice and Bitty and Lardo burst into giggles when they'd successfully covered him. "Are you seriously just wrapping me?"

"Yeah, and then you can try to get yourself out of it," said Bitty.

"Not funny," said Jack but Lardo laughed again and tied a knot around the crown of Jack's head.

"Larissa, Eric, let him go, I have something serious to say," said Hall. Bitty looked up immediately; Hall's face had no humor in it whatsoever. It lowered the temperature in the room by twenty degrees and gave Bitty's extremities the shakes. Lardo put a hand on his arm and gestured to Jack, who looked absolutely ridiculous as he attempted to unweave the silk from around his body. Bitty cracked a smile, just for a moment, before the dread returned. Hall waited for Jack to detangle himself and then they, along with the rest of the aerialists from the poppy sequence, sat on the edge of the mat.

"Camilla has decided to leave the show," said Hall and Bitty let out a loud sigh of relief, which caused everyone to look at him.

"I'm sorry," Bitty said. "I just — I'm sorry, I thought something way worse."

"She's fine, Eric," said Hall. "I should have clarified that first. She just told me this morning. Three weeks is not a lot of time to find a replacement for such a big role, but I'll post the position today —"

"Bittle should do it," said Jack.

"Pfft," Bitty immediately replied.

"No, I'm serious," said Jack. "You know the part already."

"I kind of, sort of, maybe know the part," said Bitty.

"You know it better than anyone else," said Jack. "Listen, Hall, if you want to hold auditions you can hold auditions, but three weeks is a really short amount of time to fill a part that big and Bitty knows the whole thing. He just did the tramp sequence with me this morning, the silks part he's had down for months…"

"Weeks," clarified Bitty. "Days, maybe."

"It's a leg up over anyone else."

"Maybe we should talk about this more in my office," said Hall. Bitty glanced around the room; Jack wasn't paying attention to the others, but apart from Lardo, no one else seemed pleased with this turn of events. Connor especially looked angry, staring daggers into the back of Jack's head, while Denice and Tony mostly looked annoyed. Bitty could understand their frustration. He hadn't performed in front of an audience even once as an aerialist and some of them had been with the show since its inception.

"Why?" Jack asked with disregard to the mood of the room. "He knows the part and he does it well. He's the most logical choice to succeed her."

"He hasn't performed on stage yet," said Hall.

"It's not his fault he got a concussion," said Jack, although Bitty felt it was very much his fault that he wrapped his own foot incorrectly. "And it's not his fault I yelled at him and made him switch roles in the first place."

"Jack," started Hall but Jack shook his head.

"I'm not playing favorites here. He's the best one for the job."

Hall looked at Bitty, who pressed his lips together and tried to remove any sort of expression from his face because he very much wanted to reach over Lardo and smack Jack in the back of the head. "What do you have to say about this, Eric?" Hall asked.

"I do know it," Bitty said.

"And he's good at it," insisted Jack. "If we show you, I'm sure you'll change your mind."

"My mind is not in any direction right now," said Hall.

"We can do the scene," said Jack. "We could do it on stage right now."

"Okay I want to see this," said Lardo.

"All right," said Hall with a long sigh. "Let's get over to the auditorium. If you can do the scene with full musical accompaniment, I'll consider it."

The others ran out of the room, Lardo first, who shouted, "Jack and Bitty are doing the scene in the auditorium if yous all want to watch!"

"Oh, Lord," said Bitty. Jack stood up and extended a hand to Bitty to help him up as well. "Jack, you are ridiculous. I barely know this routine."

"Stop it, you know it perfectly," said Jack. He started toward the door and then doubled back, a sheepish expression on his face. "You do want to do this, right?"

Bitty stared Jack in the face, whose expression remained unsure. It was by far the most tentative Bitty had ever seen him offstage, but Bitty's mind was reeling already. The Sprite's role was challenging but liberating. The Sprite was in every act. The Sprite was able to emote, to affect the audience. The Man's face may have been on every promotional poster, but the Man was nothing without the Sprite. Furthermore, Jack was right; Bitty had done it several times.

"I absolutely want to do it," said Bitty. "It's a starring role, Jack. They'd put my picture in the Playbill and everything. Of course I want it, and yes I know it — I just don't know if out of everyone here that I'm the best fit."

Jack stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Bitty attempted to ignore how warm it made him feel.

"Camilla told me three months ago that she was quitting," said Jack.

"Mr. Zimmermann!" exclaimed Bitty. Jack smiled at him and let go.

Word spread quickly through the Samwell Circus Troupe that Jack and Bitty were about to perform  _ the scene _ in the main auditorium, so when Bitty arrived, the house was already abuzz with chatter. He peered around the corner and every performer in the company sat in the audience, surrounding Hall and Murray. Several members of the stage crew were already setting up for the end of Act Two, and the musical director stood inside the music booth. Every performance of  _ Nature _ had live musical accompaniment, but Bitty hadn't seen any of the musicians since hiatus began, so he assumed they wouldn't return until the show did.

"Jack," said Bitty after he ducked behind the curtain again; several people, like Ransom and Holster, had waved at him, but most of them looked skeptical. "Everybody's out there."

"Okay," said Jack.

"Jack!" said Bitty again. "Everybody is out there!"

"Does that make you nervous? There's going to be a lot more out there when you do this for real, you know."

"But I've never done it before and now I have to do it in front of people? In front of the whole company?

"You'll be fine, Bittle," said Jack. "Do you want to put on a costume or are you cool like this?"

"Let's not be presumptuous," said Bitty. He gestured to his compression tights and close-fitting T-shirt. "I'll do it like this."

By the time the stage crew and the musical director were ready, Bitty had psyched himself into a nervous wreck and took to stretching to try to calm himself down. He was bent in half and looking between his legs when Jack finished speaking to the stage manager and gave Bitty a thumbs-up sign, which looked like a thumbs-down from his angle. Bitty straightened up, jumped a few times to settle the last of his jitters, and stepped onto the stage with Jack.

The performers were already a terrible audience. Nobody clapped except for the people Bitty had gotten to know well in his tenure — Ransom, Holster, Lardo, Dex and Nursey, Chowder and Farmer. To make up for the lack of applause, however, Ransom and Holster felt the need to shout "YEAH BITTY!" as loud as they could.

"Quiet!" called Hall. "This is an audition, people. No distractions."

Jack hopped up onto the silks, climbed up about ten feet, and then wrapped himself to prepare for a double corkscrew drop. Bitty stood in the center of the stage, facing him, and placed his hands over his mouth as if in terror. Jack looked at Hall for confirmation, who nodded, and then released into his double corkscrew and hanged there, upside down, his body limp, his eyes closed. Bitty waited for the music to begin; it teed up at the cymbal crash that usually accompanied Jack's drop and then mellowed. He took in a deep breath and rushed forward.

The auditorium went quiet and Bitty heard nothing but music and his own breath as the rigging lowered Jack onto the ground so Bitty could gently untie him. Jack's eyes remained closed as Bitty touched his arms, his legs, his chest, and finally placed a hand upon his cheek. It was difficult to perform and not speak; Jack, despite simply acting unconscious, played the role well, and Bitty desperately wanted to say his name and pat his cheeks. Jack gently opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and lifted his hand to place it atop Bitty's. They sat up slowly, staring at each other, until Jack was upright and Bitty could stand, their hands reaching out toward each other as Bitty backed away. Every step felt more and more painful to take as each separated him from Jack. It didn't matter that there were fifty performers and half the stage crew observing them. It didn't matter this was technically an audition, and Bitty should concentrate on being accurate; he wanted to return his hand to Jack's soft cheek and stare into his eyes on the grass that was the floor of the stage.

Bitty felt the fabric touch his hands from behind. He took hold of each silk and hid his face in them, then peered around the side at Jack, who continued to watch with breathless awe. Bitty wrapped his hands in the edges of the fabric and then, with long, sweeping steps soared around the perimeter of the entire stage, his eyes never leaving Jack, who turned to hold the contact. After a full circle of the stage Bitty wrapped one wrist and repeated the circle with his right arm free, which he used to beckon Jack to join him. Jack vehemently shook his head and Bitty dropped right in front of him, let go of the silk, and knelt on the floor. He caressed Jack's face and Jack touched his hand again. Jack's fingers were delicate, reassuring, but the expression in his eyes reluctant and afraid. Bitty felt the pull to kiss him, but that wasn't part of the routine, so he let go and returned to the silk.

The music swelled when Bitty was lifted up into the air again, a transition from verse to chorus and back to verse with every drop as the Sprite demonstrated to the Man that there was nothing to fear in the sky, that he was in control of every one of his movements. Every return to earth was accompanied by a call for Jack, and with every call Jack's body relaxed until he stood just next to Bitty when he returned to the ground. Bitty raised his eyebrows and Jack nodded, so Bitty wrapped Jack's wrists along with his and they soared in one long circle together, staring into each other's eyes.

When the rigging pulled them upward into the sky Jack grasped both of his arms tightly around Bitty's body, a look of panic on his face. Never in their rehearsal did they emote this much and Bitty genuinely laughed at Jack's convincing fear. He securely held Jack and they lowered back down slowly, then vaulted upward again. Jack relaxed and eventually they began to separate from each other, Jack frequently looking back to Bitty for approval, who nudged him along as he climbed up and Bitty climbed down, and they began to slowly spin as they spread their arms and legs in long extensions, Jack as if testing how he could be supported, Bitty showing him what could be done.

When they reached the ground again a second silk unraveled from the sky. Jack took hold of it in his hands but looked quickly back to Bitty, who urged him to take it. Jack seemed reluctant so Bitty ran forward, wrapped him up, and then took him by the hips and threw him into the sky, where he soared up thirty feet, his face in panic again. He looked down at Bitty, grasping tightly to the silk in his hands. Bitty happily waved at him and gestured for him to let go. Jack shook his head and so Bitty did it again. Jack closed his eyes, took a dramatic breath, and let go, twirling downward in a beautiful double corkscrew, the same one that rendered him unconscious at the beginning of the scene. Bitty applauded and ran forward as Jack untied himself, and raced up his own silk to meet Jack's height.

Bitty, once secure in the air, swung forward and touched Jack's cheek again before swinging back. Jack's eyes closed, just briefly, before Bitty let go. They stared at each other, unmoving, until Bitty released himself from his hold and Jack did the same. Bitty planted his feet and Jack followed. Bitty wrapped the silk around his torso and Jack followed. Bitty wrapped his right leg around the silk above him and then wrapped his left leg, and Jack followed. He wrapped his waist one more time, and Jack followed. He extended his right arm and his left leg and looked up at Jack, who followed. Bitty winked at him, released his right foot, and slowly revolved twice until he landed upside down, his back arched. He looked up at Jack, who breathed again and then followed. Bitty reached out a hand to him and he reached back, and their fingers brushed together, sending sparks of electricity through Bitty's body. Jack climbed back up, and then pirouetted again, a bright smile on his face. He reached out his fingers and touched Bitty's one more time, eliciting the same electrical response, before he climbed back up. This time Bitty did as well. They wrapped themselves faster this time, perfectly in sync, and looked at each other with beaming smiles before they dropped again in unison.

Jack climbed all the way down to the end of his silk and reached out for Bitty, who did the same. Jack grabbed Bitty by the waist and lifted him off the ground, the both of them turning slowly as Jack held Bitty securely with just his forearm. This should have been terrifying; Bitty was five feet off the ground with nothing preventing a fall apart from one of Jack's arms, but Bitty trusted him implicitly. Bitty arched his back, pointed his fingers and toes, and opened his eyes. They rotated toward the audience and Bitty looked at them for the first time; Lardo's eyes were wide, her hand over her mouth. Ransom and Holster were in tears. Hall remained impassive. 

With the rotation complete, Jack adjusted his grip on Bitty's waist to pull them together. The move was less graceful than it should have been and Bitty latched onto Jack's torso roughly, their faces nearly smacking into each other as Bitty secured himself around Jack's neck. They were much too close. Jack's eyes drifted down toward Bitty's lips, and Bitty's did the same. Jack hadn't shaved that day; his beard was dark and thick for just a day's worth of growth, but it suited the lines of his face. He'd been breathing a bit harder now that they were nearly done and his mouth opened slightly. As Bitty stared, Jack's tongue slid across his lips and left visible moisture behind.

The music settled and Bitty's eyes flickered back up to Jack's just as Jack looked back at him. He gripped Jack's shoulder with one hand, Jack tightened his arm around Bitty's waist, and Bitty pointed upward into the sky. Jack nodded and the silk vaulted upward and out of sight. Beneath them the performers broke into loud applause; Bitty recognized Holster's whoop and Lardo's whistle. The rigging brought them to a platform above the stage, where Jack let go of the silk and wrapped Bitty up in a tight hug, lifting him bodily from the ground.

"You were amazing," Jack said with an easy, loud laugh that Bitty had never heard from him before.

"Be careful! We're not on solid ground!" Bitty squeaked.

"Come on, you have to get back down there and bow." Jack wrapped his arm in the silk again and then grabbed Bitty firmly with one arm. With an "eep," Bitty clung tightly back to him as Jack hopped back down and the rigging lowered them all the way to the floor of the stage. Jack was not quick to let go of him, so Bitty hanged on as long as he could as they faced the audience — everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering for him. He felt the blush go right to his cheeks; Jack stepped to the side and allowed him to bow, which resulted in more whistles.

"So?" Jack asked Hall once the company had quieted.

"It was good," said Hall.

Everyone booed.

"It was one scene!" said Hall and received more boos in response. Eventually Hall yelled "FINE!" and the cast cheered. Hall stood up to leave, prompting most of the others to follow him out of the auditorium. Lardo led Ransom and Holster up onto the stage where she gave Bitty a hug. Bitty looked over her shoulder at Jack, who continued to smile at him but also continued to back away, out of their huddle of hugs.

"Come on, let's go to the Haus and celebrate," Lardo said.

"Hall shouting 'Fine' to shut y'all up does not mean the part is actually mine," said Bitty exasperatedly as Ransom and Holster crushed him into a hug between them.

"Of course it does," said Jack.

"Jack," said Lardo, "I know this isn't your thing but you're welcome too if you want to join us."

"Nah," said Jack with a wave of his hand. "You guys have fun."

"Okay then," she said. "You ready, Bits?"

"Just give me a sec, I gotta pee," said Bitty. He excused himself from the group, hugged and high-fived a few others who'd also jumped up on stage, and then beelined to the bathroom, his head down. Once inside he shut the door behind him and closed his eyes. The tears came right away, hot and heavy on his face. Hall would either give him the role or he wouldn't, and Bitty would do his best with what he was given, but when he shut his eyes all he could see was Jack's face, Jack's eyes, Jack's lips…

"You know better, Dicky," he whispered. "Never fall for a straight boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic was inspired by [this piece of fan art](http://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/post/175952554350/awfullyrubyfanart-reupload-pt-4-brought-on-by). The final lift in the scene Jack and Bitty perform, where Jack holds Bitty with one arm, is a direct reference to it, although in the art they're on straps rather than silks. I've been waiting so long to be able to show you this scene!
> 
> Also I mentioned this in a previous chapter, but in case you wanted to read it again with the music in mind, [this is the song that is playing during their sequence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpAGW3QBG-k).


	8. Chapter 8

Despite Jack's confidence and the support of the other performers, Hall required Bitty to audition twice more before he was officially extended a contract for the co-starring role of the Sprite. It was understandable; one emotional performance on silks wasn't enough to prove that he could also perform on the other apparatuses that the Sprite would use throughout the show. Once the contract was signed, however, Bitty was thrown into rehearsal to nail down almost an hour of intricate choreography. The larger items he knew from his sessions with Jack — he had almost all of Act Two and a good chunk of Act Three memorized, but the rest of it was new. 

The first show of the new season would occur Memorial Day weekend, and in the days leading up to his debut, if Bitty was not at Faber rehearsing, he was in Shitty and Lardo's kitchen baking. After his fifth consecutive appearance in their apartment at midnight, Lardo asked, "So is this a thing you do when you get nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," replied Bitty as he continued to mix cupcake frosting, his face and hair covered in powdered sugar.

Two days before the first show, Bitty had spent an hour arranging perfectly even slices of apples into a fibonacci spiral at Lardo's counter when Jack walked in without knocking. Bitty looked up and nodded to him before returned his attention to his pie.

"Do you not have a kitchen, Bittle?" Jack asked. Bitty could hear the tease in Jack's tone from across the room.

"I prefer to work in a kitchen that isn't arm's length from my bed," said Bitty. He pushed his sleeves up but then rubbed the exposed skin on his arms before he placed another apple slice in the crust.

"Did you buy a coat yet?" Jack asked.

"Nope. I bought apples."

"Christ, Bittle, how many apples did you buy?"

"Is there a reason you're here, or did you sense my presence in the building and thought 'Bittle's here. Must annoy?'"

"Clearly the latter," said Jack. "Look, I have something for you." When Bitty looked up from his nearly-perfect apple arrangement, Jack had set a newspaper onto the island. Bitty's eyes widened to see a photo of himself in costume on the front page of the Arts section of the Boston Globe.

"What!" Bitty yelled. Lardo hopped off the couch, walked over, and then immediately folded the paper and hit Bitty with it.

"Look at you all fancy pants on the front page of the paper!" she said.

"The front page of the Arts section," clarified Jack. "There's an article about the show and everything. They gave it a good review. Hall thinks we'll sell out the run because of this."

"Jack. How many people read the newspaper anymore?" Lardo asked.

"It's on the website too," said Jack.

"But it's my face!" said Bitty. He picked up the paper and hugged it close to his body. "Is this your only copy or did you get more?"

"I got one," said Jack.

"I'll have to go out and buy more. I want to send one to everyone I know." Bitty paused. "I don't really know that many people, but you bet my old neighbors back in Atlanta are getting one. Oh, this is so exciting." Bitty looked over the newspaper. The photo must have been from the press preview they did earlier in the week, Bitty's first performance in front an audience who weren't part of the troupe. His eyes were closed, his expression soft as he hanged upside down from a silk, and even with all of the makeup, it was unmistakably him. The headline read  _ Boston's hidden gem NATURE begins fifth run Memorial Day weekend.  _ He scanned the article, which mentioned him by name and addressed his recent casting in the co-starring role. This was more attention than he'd ever received in Atlanta.

"You okay, Bittle?" Jack asked. Bitty looked up and nodded.

"It's just really cool," Bitty said. Jack smiled at him before he and Lardo walked to the couch. Bitty hugged the newspaper one more time before he set it aside and returned his attention to his pie.

"Is Shitty here?" Jack asked.

"Bruh, if Shitty were here he would have tackled you at the front door," said Lardo. "He's at the bar. Bitty's been keeping me company, although he hasn't said much since he started working on his masterpiece."

"Art requires focus, Lardo," said Bitty.

Lardo and Jack sat in silence in front of the television until Bitty finished the pie thirty minutes later. He turned to the oven and frowned upon realizing the display was blank. He was certain he programmed it to preheat before he rolled out his crust. When he pressed the BAKE button, nothing happened. He pressed it several more times.

"Um, Lardo," he said, hearing the panic in his own voice.

"What up, Bits?" she called from the couch.

"Your oven's not working." 

Lardo looked over her shoulder at the display. "Oh, yeah, that's happened before. Some kind of wiring bullshit. I'll call the landlord in the morning to come fix it."

"In the morning?" Bitty asked. Jack turned as well; Bitty's voice had gone high and squeaky. "I just spent two hours making this pie!"

"It's nine o'clock, Bits, they're not going to come over now," said Lardo.

"But...but... " The rest of sentence died in Bitty's mouth. Lardo just shrugged her shoulders but Jack stood.

"Come on, Bittle, you can bake it in my oven," he said.

"Does it work?"

"Made chicken tenders fine last night," said Jack. Bitty carefully picked up his pie and followed Jack out of the apartment. When Jack opened the door to the stairwell, Bitty quickly shook his head. "No? Elevator instead?"

"Yes please," said Bitty. Jack called the elevator and they ascended just one floor. Jack unlocked and held open the door for Bitty first. Regardless of how delicately he had been protecting his pie from Lardo's kitchen, he nearly dropped it at the sight of Jack's apartment. Even though he was just one floor up, it felt like stepping into a different part of town. Lardo and Shitty's apartment was a significant step up from Bitty's simply by having rooms and an actual kitchen, but Jack had high ceilings, stainless steel appliances, and interior design. Bitty had nothing apart from the one poster on his walls; Lardo hanged some paintings, but Jack's kitchen had a theme that was separate but related to his living room. The furniture was leather, the tables matched, there was a fireplace with a mantel and most wonderfully of all, a hook with a silk near the window.

Bitty clamped his mouth closed and veered to the right to enter the kitchen. He set the pie down on granite countertops and preheated the gas range. A countdown started on the display; just five minutes. Bitty turned back to the living room and placed a hand on the black leather sofa. It was soft and cool to the touch.

"Jack," said Bitty. "This place is gorgeous."

"Thanks," said Jack. "Well, I mean, thank my mom, she did most of it. My dad installed the silk when they visited last year. It's not high enough or isolated enough to really do anything so I mostly use it to practice my wraps."

"Hey, you have a rig in your home," said Bitty. He took hold of the tails and wrapped them around his wrists. He secured himself and flipped over once to test its strength; it felt sturdy. He let go and turned back to Jack. "Can I see the rest of it? How many bedrooms do you have?"

"Two," said Jack. He nodded Bitty toward the hallway but before they could pass the kitchen the oven beeped and displayed 425 degrees.

"Oh, wow, seriously?" Bitty asked. He opened the oven door and a wave of hot air hit him; it felt correct. Bitty placed the pie inside, set a timer for less than he normally would to accommodate an older appliance, and then followed Jack into the hallway. Before they could make it to any of the rooms, Bitty stopped at a photograph on the wall. The whole hallway had been neatly arranged with them, but the first in line was a younger, happier Jack in a gymnastics leotard holding a gold medal. The leotard had the Canadian flag on it.

"I didn't know you did gymnastics," said Bitty, pointing to the picture. "I mean, I figured you did because of the show and all, but I guess I didn't realize it. Is this team Canada?"

"Yeah, when I was seventeen," said Jack. "I got the gold in parallel bars at Worlds that year."

"Oh wow," said Bitty. "What year was that?"

"2007."

"I think that was before I started paying attention to who went to Worlds," said Bitty. "Did you go to the Olympics in '08? I don't remember." Jack frowned and Bitty realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like talking about it."

"No, it's fine," said Jack with a quick shake of his head. "I was training for the Olympics when I fell off the rings and broke my arm. That...and other things…pretty much put an end to my gymnastics career. I took some time off, came to Samwell, and I've been here ever since."

"I'm sorry," said Bitty again.

"It's not your fault. Samwell's been good to me. I fit here. I got to write this show and now look at it. I would never have done that if it I made the Olympic team." Jack opened a door. "Come on. This is the spare bedroom. I guess it's kind of like a living room because I moved the TV in here to make room for the rigging out there."

The spare bedroom was the size of Bitty's apartment. There was a futon in here, currently in couch formation, and a large television and accompanying stereo equipment around it. There was also a desk against one wall with a laptop and a printer. When Bitty's apartment was clean, his laptop lived on the TV tray next to his bed, but most of the time it was mixed in with the sheets and blankets and would end up on the floor when Bitty turned in the middle of the night.

Jack pointed out the bathroom but didn't go inside; Bitty felt it best not to see how much better it was than his. He did, however, scrunch his nose at the large bed in the middle of the master bedroom. Having slept a few times at Lardo's made him miss having more space at night. He tried with very little success to not think about sleeping in this bed with Jack occupying some of that space.

"I mostly just sleep in here. If I'm home I'm usually in the living room or the spare bedroom," said Jack. "And I'm usually not home."

"If I lived here I'd never leave," said Bitty. He stepped out of the room to derail his train of thought, which was spiraling further and further out of control at the fantasy of Jack and Jack's bed. Bitty returned to the living room and again felt disbelief that Jack lived in something so large and beautiful on his salary. Bitty's co-starring role came with a significant pay increase, which was both unexpected and relieving, but it was still only enough to live comfortably in his studio apartment. There was no way he could afford two bedrooms on his own. He thought about commenting on how much it would have cost but stopped himself — not only would it have been rude, he realized that Jack must have come from money if his father was as successful and well-known as the rest of the cast made him seem to be.

Bitty hopped up onto the silk and tied himself in, then sat there in the sky, facing Jack, who sprawled out onto the couch. Jack looked up at him with a soft, open expression, no worry or concern on his face. It appeared Hiatus Jack didn't like to shave, so his beard had grown in thick and dark. Bitty very much enjoyed the features underneath the hair on Jack's face, but there was something about the wildness of it that caused his heart to flutter with heated desire, the kind that led his thoughts back to the bedroom. Jack's gaze was trained right back on Bitty, his gentle blue eyes content. It didn't help Bitty's thoughts.

"Jack?" Bitty asked quietly.

"Hmm?" he asked with an uptick of his lips as he somewhat smiled. It crinkled his left eye and popped his cheekbones.

"What do you mean by other things?"

Jack didn't blink but the smile faded, along with his cheekbones and his crinkles. He didn't shut down, though, and raised his right fist to support his right temple.

"Me and a couple of the guys I trained with got really into partying around that time," said Jack. "Like...really into it. I felt like we were constantly drunk that winter. The more we drank, the worse I felt, both physically and mentally. I was tired all the time and felt like I wasn't performing the way I should have been, which I wasn't, because I was hungover almost every day. The worse I performed the more anxious I got, and the more anxious I got the more medication I took for it. The day I broke my arm they did blood work. What I had in my system wasn't okay and that was it. I was off the team."

"Just like that?" Bitty asked.

"My dad was furious," said Jack. He adjusted himself on the couch and for the first time, looked at the ceiling instead of Bitty. "I remember him fighting with the coaches about it. My arm would heal before selection, they could still take me. I was his son after all. Bad Bob Zimmermann's son. First gold medalist in gymnastics for Canada. I remember him screaming about it and it was so embarrassing, but rules are rules, even for Bob Zimmermann's son. I was significantly over the documented dosage for my anxiety meds and my blood alcohol was over the legal limit, even for someone of age, which I wasn't."

"So then you went to Samwell?"

"I took time off," said Jack and he looked back at Bitty. "I finished school and did some coaching at a gym in Montreal, really little kids, the ones who could barely do a somersault and mostly ran around and fell down." Bitty cracked a smile at the thought of Jack having the patience to handle children who couldn't even flip over. Jack noticed his smile. "I was a very good coach, Bittle."

"Sure, Jack," Bitty said.

"They loved me. They called me Coach Z."

"I said sure!" laughed Bitty and Jack laughed as well. "Did you ever try Cirque?"

"Yeah, before I tried Samwell I tried there, and my dad got involved. They told him I couldn't audition because of everything that happened."

"That's stupid," said Bitty.

"It was for the best anyway," said Jack. "Did you ever try for Cirque?"

"Yeah, right, like I'm good enough for that," said Bitty with an eyeroll. When he looked back at Jack, Jack's expression was set, almost annoyed.

"You're good, Bitty," he said.

Across the room, the oven beeped, signalling the end of the timer. Bitty looked over and so did Jack, but neither moved.

"Maybe we stay here," said Jack. "Maybe we don't share the pie with the others."

Jack looked back up at Bitty when Bitty laughed. Jack did not laugh. For the first time that evening Jack's expression was difficult to read, so Bitty unwrapped himself and slid down to the floor, then removed the pie from the oven and headed to the door without another word.

 

***

 

There were several perks to Bitty's new co-starring role; the most impressive (apart from the pay) was the designated parking spot, meaning that Bitty no longer needed to walk the four blocks to the auditorium and could instead drive himself. This was fortunate on those days when the cold lingered, which happened less often now that they were into May. Summer was slowly teasing him by making brief appearances throughout hiatus, but the day of the first show, it was still in the fifties and Bitty missed home. 

In addition to the parking spot, Bitty now shared a private dressing room with Jack. He'd never been shy about costume changes or having others in his space — it was the same in Atlanta and even the same as a child in gymnastics and dance. He'd never had the luxury of privacy and thus never missed it, but there was something oddly satisfying about being able to pull on his leotard with no one else in the room.

Bitty sat in front of one of the two vanities and began to apply his stage makeup. Jack had already moved into the other one; the table was littered with makeup, half-empty bottles of water, tissues, and cold cream, but Jack wasn't in the room yet. Bitty was unnecessarily early because he was nervous and instead of repeating the last-minute rehearsal that led to his concussion, he decided to devote extra time to his costume instead. He had half of his face streaked with lines when Jack entered the room.

"Oh, you're here already," he said. "I was looking for you."

"Yeah, I got here early," said Bitty. Jack sat at the vanity next to him.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yep," said Bitty.

"Well whatever you do, don't run off and try to practice by yourself. Just focus." Bitty set his brush down and breathed; it helped only a little. "Did you turn the thermostat up?"

Bitty looked up and Jack had started removing his clothes, now standing shirtless near the thermostat next to the door. 

"You did. It does not need to be eighty in here, Bittle," said Jack. He turned back without adjusting it. Bitty quickly picked up his brush again and tried to look innocent, but Jack only chuckled and started removing more clothing. Bitty didn't want to see any part of Jack's body and, even worse, did not want to think how many times Camilla sat in this seat while Jack took off his clothes, or how many times Jack sat at his vanity while she removed her clothes, or if they had ever removed their clothes together.

Bitty finished his makeup before Jack even started and didn't want to sit and awkwardly watch, so he stood up to leave, but Jack looked over at him. "Where are you going?"

"I was going to see if Lardo's here yet."

"Oh," said Jack, and he looked disappointed.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"Well, it's our first show. I thought we could, you know. Get ready together."

Bitty looked down at himself; he was ready. He had no reason to stay. Jack, who only had one streak of white down the side of his face, visibly pinkened. He sat back down. "Okay," Bitty said. "We can get ready together."

Jack handed him an extra brush. "Since you're done, you can help me." Bitty took the brush, dipped it in white face paint, and slid it from Jack’s temple to his chin. This was the most soothing part of the show, working with the paint. At his first meeting with the art director he learned that the paint didn't have to be applied the same way every time, as long as the lines were thick and the colors worked together. Bitty had picked it up rather easily, mesmerized by the effect as his skin transformed from life to art. Jack seemed to have the same approach to his makeup, less concerned about precision and more about color.

"It looks good," said Jack ten minutes later when Bitty set his brush down on the desk.

"You never cover your whole face," said Bitty.

"I'm a man," said Jack. "You're a sprite. You're more ethereal than me."

"But you become a sprite in the end."

"Not until the end. I'm still just a man until then," said Jack. He stood and picked up his shirt, which he buttoned up over his leotard. Bitty smiled at him. "What?"

"You just look good, Jack. Was the art your idea?"

"Sort of," said Jack. "I wanted it to look like a painting but I'm not a painter. I found some people who could materialize what I was thinking and they created something better than I ever could have done myself." Jack smiled as well, his expression wistful. "This is going to be good. Best show we've ever done."

"You're very confident," Bitty said.

"I believe in you," said Jack, and then he opened the door. Jack waited for Bitty to exit first, but Bitty, filled with warmth and also sadness, did not move. Jack motioned for him to go through, which brought Bitty back to himself, and he walked on by.

Bitty's nerves escalated from the moment he left the dressing room and remained on max until the moment he stood offstage, watching March as she swung in the sky, painted mainly in yellow and radiating light. This was his final moment before it would be real: the contract, the dress rehearsals, his picture in the paper, his name in the Playbill could all still be pieces of an elaborate dream. Once he stepped on stage in front of a sold out audience, he wouldn't be able to deny that he'd made the right decision by walking out on his family three years before.

Jack stepped up behind him and gently placed his hands on Bitty's arms. Bitty shivered as electricity soared through his veins, from the tips of his fingers to the cowlick on the crown of his head. "You've got this," said Jack, reassuringly, but Bitty was not shivering from nerves. Jack's touch brought unwelcome desire to the blood in Bitty's veins, making him completely forget everything that he had worried over these past few weeks.

Across the stage a set of dancers began their entrance. Jack gave Bitty a gentle push and he stepped out in sync with the dancers, then did a quick twirl to show Jack a smile before he began the first of his routines. Jack smiled back, his teeth white and radiant, his eyes shining even in the darkness offstage. Bitty wanted to run back to him, to thank him for his encouragement, to show gratitude in any way Jack would let him, but instead he kept on, and he made no mistakes.

Ninety minutes later Bitty had tears in his eyes; the crowd was on their feet for them. Jack had taken his hand and gestured toward him, and the ensuing cheers were only for him. Bitty soaked it in for a few seconds, praise that belonged to him for work that he had done, before he gestured back to Jack. The curtain fell and Jack let go of his hand. Before Bitty could turn to anyone, Lardo had jumped on him.

"Bits!" she yelled. "You were so good!"

"Thank you," said Bitty with a laugh. He was hugged by Ransom and then Holster, both of whom picked him up off the ground before setting him back down. He couldn't stop laughing, couldn't stop smiling. He'd flawlessly performed in front of an awed audience and they loved him for it. This was the feeling he'd been chasing for years, elation and pride and acceptance. It was something he only caught glimpses of in Atlanta, even before Shannon died. This was why he left home, and the manifestation of it wouldn't leave his face.

"Where's Jack?" Bitty asked after he turned to his right in search of a hug.

"I think he went back to the dressing room already," said Lardo. "I saw him walk off the stage."

"I'm going to find him," said Bitty. "He was amazing." Bitty ran at full speed off the stage, still grinning, his eyes darting around backstage for Jack. Jack would be easy to find; his costume after his transformation was mostly white and only Bitty matched him. Everyone else wore a distinct color or street clothes, so Bitty ran until he saw white. Jack was standing in the hallway that led to their dressing room, talking to two people that Bitty couldn't see very well, but based on their clothing Bitty assumed were part of the crew. He ran full speed toward Jack and leapt onto his back. Jack instinctively caught his legs and Bitty was ready to hug him and tell him how wonderful he was until Bitty looked at the two people Jack spoke to: Bob and Alicia Zimmermann.

"Oh!" said Bitty and he dropped right back to the ground and stepped to Jack's side. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see who Jack was talking to."

Bob and Alicia, both startled at Bitty's appearance, quickly smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but the high from the performance was gone and instead he stood shorter than these very important people, hoping the floor would just swallow him whole. He looked to Jack for help, but Jack didn't catch the desperation in Bitty's eyes and instead gestured toward Bob and Alicia.

"Bittle, these are my parents, Bob and Alicia. This is Eric Bittle."

"It is so nice to meet you," said Alicia and she shook Bitty's hand. "You were absolutely phenomenal tonight."

"Thank you very much," said Bitty.

"Jack's been telling us about you and how excited he is to have you take this role," said Bob, and he also shook Bitty's hand. "Camilla was wonderful and I have nothing but good things to say about her performance, but this role was written for you."

"Thank you," repeated Bitty, who had no idea what else to say. Bob Zimmermann, the founder of modern circus, had just complimented him and he very much wanted to go cry in front of his vanity while he removed his makeup. He tried to take a step away, to begin to excuse himself for interrupting their conversation, but Jack placed a firm hand on the small of his back and refused to let him leave.

"I didn't know you'd be in town," said Jack, still pressing his palm to Bitty's back.

"With how much you talked up Eric's performance we had to see it opening night," said Alicia, and Bitty would have blushed if his face wasn't covered in paint. "And we know you, honey, we didn't want to you to worry about us being here so we came down this morning. You don't have to host us, we can get a hotel."

"No, you can stay with me," said Jack quickly. "How long will you be here?"

"Just a few days," said Bob. "Your mother is meeting up with some friends tomorrow and we'll take in a show at her old theatre before we head back home."

"Are you seeing us again?" Bitty asked.

"No," said Bob with an eye on Jack, whose hand stiffened against Bitty's back but didn't move, so Bitty still couldn't escape. "We try to see it once a run, see what improvements get made. Jack, I do think this is the best iteration yet."

"Thanks," said Jack. "They did some new things with the tramp sequence. Chris and Caitlin's routine is way better this time around too."

"And Eric, of course," said Alicia. "When you and Jack did those pirouettes — I swear I almost died. They were magical."

"Not to mention the way you two were able to portray the relationship between the Man and the Sprite," said Bob. "Very convincing."

Bitty's face felt so hot he wondered if the paint would melt off. Alicia and Bob beamed at him and Jack had held him like a lover since the moment Bitty appeared. It was clear what Bob meant, and Jack was not helping convince them otherwise. It was incredibly confusing. Luckily, Alicia said something else so Bitty didn't have to.

"Did you eat yet, honey?" she asked Jack. He shook his head. "I have reservations at Davio's. I can make it for four, Eric, if you wanted to join us."

Bitty looked between the three of them. Alicia was gorgeous, tall and thin with eyes just like Jack's. Bob looked like an older, slightly softer version of Jack, from his nose to his jawline to the color of his hair. Alicia looked at Bitty expectantly but Bob looked at Jack with fond admiration, a kind of pride that Bitty knew that some fathers felt for their sons, but Bitty was personally unfamiliar with. Alicia stood close to Jack, just inches away from a hug. They looked very happy together and Bitty felt a wave of sadness all at once. 

"Oh, no," said Bitty. "Thank you for the invitation but I can't tonight. I hope you three have a great time. It was wonderful to meet you."

"You as well," said Alicia. "And really, Eric, you were fantastic."

"Thank you," said Bitty again. He deliberately stepped out of Jack's grip and waved at the three of them. They said a chorus of goodbyes and he walked away, feeling their gaze on his back. He kept his steps slow, although his body was determined to run, and entered the dressing room. Jack had not followed, although Bitty knew he'd be along shortly to remove his makeup and change his clothes.

Bitty sat at his vanity and slathered cold cream on his face and neck. He stared into his own eyes as he removed it and he returned to himself, but his normal self was not someone that he wanted to see. Like Jack, he looked like his parents, and while usually that didn't bother him, he could see it clear as day as the sprite disappeared and the boy returned, a stupid little boy who ran away from home at sixteen because his parents didn't like the idea of him quitting school and joining the circus. It made sense that they had refused. He was the first person in his entire family to leave school. Both of his parents had gone to college, his father even played football at Georgia. They expected the same from him but as soon as he picked up silks he fell in love, and they didn't understand how difficult it was to focus at a desk for eight hours a day. They wanted what they thought was best for him, but instead he texted a girl he had just met and left after they'd both gone to sleep. It had been four years, long enough to love and lose a best friend, and he still hadn't spoken to them.

He wondered if they'd be proud of him.


	9. Chapter 9

"How was dinner?" Bitty asked.

He and Jack sat in front of their vanities the following evening, already dressed and painting their faces. Bitty saw a few of the opening night photos and decided his face needed more blue in it, so half of every stroke included paint the color of the sky. Jack, on the other hand, said he had too much on his face the night before and was strategically reducing the amount he used.

"It was fine," said Jack. "I like my parents, and I miss my parents, but they do this a lot. Show up without telling me first. They know I get nervous when I'm aware that they're watching but I'd still prefer having some notice before they're in my apartment for several days."

"Well, at least you have parents," said Bitty and he quickly dropped his brush on the desk. "That sounded so bad. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," said Jack. "I don't have to talk about them if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I was the one who asked. It's just — it's been a weird week, with the show starting and then meeting your family. I'm just not used to having parents around anymore and it drew up some emotions I forgot I had," said Bitty. He picked up his brush again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jack asked.

"No," said Bitty, but the words came out of his mouth anyway. "It's just been almost four years now since I left and it makes me wonder if I'm ever going to see them again. They're in Georgia and when I was with the AFC there was still the hope that someday I might run into them, even if I didn't want to, but at least it would be out there again, that I'm alive and doing okay. Now I'm here and unless I go back to Georgia there's no hope of ever running into them again. I don't have a reason to go back there."

"Do you still think they live in the same place?"

"Probably. My mama would never leave her garden," said Bitty.

"Then they would be easy to find if you wanted to see them again," said Jack.

"I don't know if I do."

They were quiet for a while, each finishing his own makeup until Jack stood and picked up his shirt from the hanger on the rack behind them. Bitty connected eyes with Jack through the mirror and suddenly Jack smiled so wide Bitty could see his teeth. Bitty could feel a smile tug at his lips, but since he had no idea why Jack looked this way, he tried to suppress it the best he could.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"Just thinking about the look on your face when my dad complimented you last night," said Jack. "You looked like you were going to faint."

"Well you have the founder of modern circus tell you a role was written for you, and you tell me how it feels," said Bitty.

"It feels good," said Jack.

Bitty lost the fight with his expression and let the smile come. He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "It feels good."

"Come on," said Jack and he placed his hands on Bitty's shoulders. "Let's go do this again." Bitty stared into his eyes and didn't move, and Jack made no attempt to hurry him along. They looked at each other, grinning like excited schoolchildren and saying nothing. Bitty's mind went in a hundred directions at once, from the feel of Jack's soft hands on his skin to the illusion of the paint on his face to the bed that sat unoccupied in Jack's apartment, and what it would feel like to have these hands and these eyes on him there instead of their shared dressing room.

Jack broke the gaze first; he patted Bitty's arm, then his cheek, and then walked to the door. Bitty followed close behind. 

The second run of the show was easier than the first; Bitty felt less nervous about the logistics and could focus more on the emotion, which came quite easy to him. It was easy to fall in love with Jack over the course of ninety minutes, and it was freeing to be able to show that love on his face when they spun in the air together at the end of Act Two. What wasn't easy, however, was parting from Jack when the curtain dropped and forcing those emotions back beneath the surface. 

"Hey, you want to go the Haus with us tonight?" Lardo asked when Bitty gave her the customary post-performance hug on the stage. "Shitty wanted to buy you a drink last night but you weren't there."

"Yeah, sorry," said Bitty with a wave of his hand. "I just wanted to crash. But sure, I'll clean up and meet you by the door."

"Cool," said Lardo. They separated at the hallway, Lardo toward the dressing room that most of the performers shared, Bitty to his own. Jack was smothered in cold cream when Bitty entered, which made him laugh, so Jack threw a used tissue at him, which Bitty easily dodged and left on the floor.

"I'm going to the Haus with Lardo, did you want to come?" Bitty asked.

"No thanks," said Jack.

"Oh, right, I already forgot your parents are in town," said Bitty. "Did you still want to meet in the morning with them here or do you want to hold off until they leave? I know we haven't really been doing it since I got this role."

Jack threw another tissue into the garbage and his true face returned. The visual effect was stunning, but seeing Jack transform back into himself was something Bitty felt privileged to witness. The features of Jack's bare skin — his sharp jaw, his thick eyebrows, the slant of his nose — were breathtaking.

"Do you still want to?" Jack asked. "You've been a normal amount of nervous these past few weeks. I wasn't sure if you still needed them."

"I don't know if I still need them, but I still want them, if you do."

Jack looked into his eyes through the mirror. "I do," he said. "We can start up again when my parents leave town."

"Okay," said Bitty. He opened his jar of cold cream and began to slather it onto his face.

Jack left first, saying his customary "Bye, Bittle," before he left the room. Once Bitty's paint was gone he showered and changed his clothes, then met Lardo by the stage door. She was crazy to be wearing shorts in this weather; he had on his red Georgia Bulldogs hooded sweatshirt and dreaded the upcoming walk in just that. She bumped his fist before he opened the door for her, and the two of them walked outside.

"Ransom and Holster already left, so we can probably get a dart board with them. Ransom kicked my ass last night so I seriously need you to step up your game," said Lardo.

"Lards, you know my hand-eye coordination when it comes to darts is mediocre at best," said Bitty, "especially after you get me drunk."

"Well maybe tonight we don't drink and just focus on the game," said Lardo, but she barely got through her sentence with a straight face before they both started laughing. Bitty recovered first, sighing loudly and looking forward, which was when he noticed them standing on the sidewalk, watching him with large, teary eyes. He stopped walking. "What?" Lardo asked.

Suzanne and Coach Bittle stood five feet away, looking both apprehensive and emotional. Suzanne had on a winter coat that Bitty recognized from his childhood when they would sometimes visit family up north for the holidays, fluffy and beige and down to her knees. Coach had on a knit hat and a leather Georgia Bulldogs jacket with black patches on the elbows. Lardo looked at them and then back at Bitty, and her realization was not surprising; Bitty's face was practically a replica of his mother's with his father's eyes.

"Bits, you okay?" Lardo asked quietly.

Bitty looked at her. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"You sure?"

Bitty nodded and stepped forward to his parents, who hadn't spoken yet. He put his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and watched Lardo walk away. She looked back at him twice, the concern evident in her expression. Once she was out of earshot he finally looked at them.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Suzanne failed in her attempt not to cry. She hadn't stopped wiping her eyes since he stepped in front of them. She obviously wasn't going to speak, so Bitty looked at his father instead.

"We heard about your big role," he said, and the accent brought Bitty back home in seconds. It was familiar and nostalgic but with it came a mix of emotions he wasn't prepared to feel. All at once he remembered climbing the tree in the backyard while Coach grilled hamburgers, Suzanne teaching him how to roll pie crust to the perfect thickness, their anger when he said he wanted to leave school, and Shannon falling, falling, falling out of the sky and onto the ground. He blinked back tears.

"My apartment's four blocks that way," said Bitty as he pointed the opposite way that Lardo walked. His parents both nodded, Suzanne still wiping her eyes with frequent regularity, and they headed that direction in silence, nothing but the sounds of the street and Suzanne's sniffing to accompany them. They rode the elevator to the tenth floor and Bitty unlocked his door. He hadn't cleaned. Dirty laundry and clean laundry sat in separate piles on the floor near the closet where the boxes prevented him from closing the door all the way. Dishes piled up in the sink from breakfast and lunch. His bed was unmade. The table, his most recent purchase, held his computer and the mail he had yet to sort through that month. He quickly pulled back the sheets on his bed and folded Shannon's blanket, but his parents sat on the two chairs that had been tucked under the table, which was the only real seating he had in the place.

"This is your apartment?" Suzanne asked.

Her voice carried many more memories than Coach's had — singing him to sleep when he was sick, holding him close when the doctor stitched his forehead after a bad fall at gymnastics, helping him finish his math homework, telling him math was more important than the circus. This tone of voice was much different than her usual, soothing lilt. This was the polite judgement that usually accompanied the phrase _ bless your heart. _

"It's not much, but I had to find something that was close and affordable and would let me move in right away when I got the job at Samwell, and this was really the only thing that fit all three. It kept me warm through winter and I'm never here anyway," said Bitty.

"You got a good view," said Coach, gesturing to the window over Bitty's left shoulder. Bitty looked through it; it was dark but the lights in the park were on and during the day he could see to the river.

"Yeah," said Bitty.

"Nice building too. Right downtown," said Coach.

"You've got some curtains at least," said Suzanne. "And the furniture fits the space."

Bitty bit his lip to hold in the anger that began to bubble; it would have been better if she just didn't comment on it at all rather than make observations that proved she had nothing positive to say. He looked at his father, who'd removed his hat and was rotating it in his hands for something to do.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Bitty asked. "I have sweet tea and bottled water."

"No thank you," said Suzanne but Coach accepted a bottle of water. Suzanne's eyes followed him the three steps from the bed to the fridge. Bitty handed Coach the bottle and then sat back down on his bed. His fingers touched the knots of the tie blanket next to him and nobody said anything. Bitty took in a breath and looked down when he spoke again:

"How'd you know where to find me?"

Suzanne opened her large purse and took out a folded section of newspaper, slightly crumpled, which Bitty recognized immediately as his feature in the Arts section of the Boston Globe. When she held it out to him he saw his own handwriting next to his photo:  _ Brad & Tristan - still looking for help… just saying ;) _

"How did you get this?" Bitty asked quietly, careful to keep the anger toward his former neighbors out of his tone.

"Mrs. Mackenzie is in my cooking club. Brad and Tristan's mom," she clarified when Bitty looked confused.

"How are they doing?" Bitty asked.

"Not so great," said Suzanne. "Tristan's been at the Applebee's for a few months but Brad's having a hard time finding work so they're going to move back home. I didn't know the company closed until she showed this to me and told me they've been having tough times. How long have you been up here?"

"Since January," said Bitty. "I found a job here almost right away."

"It's awful far and the city is so big," said Suzanne. "D'you like it?"

"Yes," said Bitty. "Well, it's cold. It's been cold since I've been here but the troupe is good and I just started this new role. You got to see show number two tonight. You did see the show, right? Or did you just wait for me outside?"

"No, we saw it," said Suzanne. "I had no idea what it would be like but it was pretty."

"Like a painting come to life," said Coach and Suzanne nodded.

"I didn't realize it was so dangerous!" Suzanne continued. "I think I gasped about a dozen times. You were very good. I don't think I knew how good you were."

Bitty untied one of the knots in the blanket and looked down to retie it. He could feel all of his comments in his throat, the positive and negative and argumentative and even the ones that begged for their forgiveness, but it was easiest to just not say anything at all and look at the blanket instead of them.

"I know you're not happy to see us," said Coach, which caused Bitty to look up. Suzanne had shot him a look across the small square table.

"Rick."

"No, no, it's true," said Coach. "There's a lot to be said that we haven't said, son, but I do think it's important to say that it seems like you're happy here, and that you do your job well. You must, if they gave you a starring role after you've been with them for just a couple of months. They said lots of good things about you in the program." He pulled out a rolled up copy of the Playbill from inside the pocket of his leather jacket, which he had yet to remove. Bitty knew he was in the program, had posed for a headshot to accompany his credentials, but had not yet mustered the confidence to actually read his summary.

"Yes, it's great that they think you're good enough at this sort of thing to be the star of the show," said Suzanne. "It looks like you enjoyed doing it too."

Bitty felt his eyes narrow before he could help it.

"Yes, I enjoy it very much," he said. "Jack and I have a lot of ideas to make it even better in the future. It's one of those things you never stop improving."

"Dicky, it's great that you've been able to do this for so long," said Suzanne, "but it's time to come home now. You're twenty years old. You can get your GED and go to a community college next semester. Get your life back on track. You don't have to live in a single room in a dirty building —"

"I like my apartment," said Bitty.

"It's so small!" said Suzanne. "You don't even have furniture. You're sleeping in a tiny bed with a raggedy blanket —" Bitty gripped tightly to Shannon's blanket. "— just steps away from your oven. It's Memorial Day weekend and I'm in my winter coat. You're doing twirls and spins half-naked on a stage."

"I'm in a leotard," said Bitty sharply.

"We saw your show in Atlanta too," said Suzanne.

The words made Bitty feel cold all over. His eyes flickered wildly back and forth between his parents: his father had his eyes on the AFC poster on the wall, sipping his water and determinedly not looking at his wife; his mother looked both exhausted and exasperated.

"When?" Bitty asked, his voice so quiet he could barely hear it.

"Not long after you left. We wanted to make sure you were okay and give you some time to think about what you had done before you came back, but it's been long enough now. This work that you do is dangerous. I know what happened to that one girl in the company in Atlanta," she said with a gesture toward the poster above the bed.

"You have no idea what happened to that one girl in my company," said Bitty and he stood. "Thank you both for coming and checking up on me. I'm fine. I'm staying here."

"Dicky," said Suzanne.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry how I left and that I didn't express myself clearly when I did. I'm very happy doing what I've been doing. I love my job and I love the people I work with and I loved… I loved Shannon. I am staying here."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Suzanne but Coach stood.

"Suzie, I think we should get going," said Coach.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You wanted to make sure he's okay." Coach turned to Bitty. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay. You might not have a lot, but you have people that you love. I think that's enough for me. If you ever want to come home, then come home. We'll be there. Suzie, let's get back to the hotel."

Bitty didn't speak while Coach ushered a resistant and weepy Suzanne to the door. Once she was in the hallway, he stopped and turned back, looking at Bitty with a kindness that Bitty had not seen from him before. It blurred Bitty's vision and caused him to sit down, one hand on the tie blanket, one hand clutching the G on his hooded sweatshirt.

"I'll give you a call," Coach said. "You don't have to come home, but I'd love to talk to you, if you're okay with that."

"Yeah, Coach, I'm okay with that," said Bitty.

"The show really is a good one. I didn't know how much it meant to you."

"Thank you."

Coach nodded roughly and left. Once the door closed, Bitty blinked and felt tears fall onto his cheeks. He fell onto the blanket and wrapped himself tightly inside of it, the tears full and heavy on his skin. He brushed them away with the ties on the edge of the blanket and paused when he felt his phone vibrate; it had done that a few times since Lardo walked away, but he hadn't yet checked it. Lardo, Ransom, and Holster all sent messages of concern and support, but the most recent was from Jack:

      **Jack**  
     Lardo told me your parents are in town. Are you okay?  
  


Bitty stared at the message until his vision blurred. He blinked, the tears fell, and his thumbs hit the keyboard.      

**Bitty**  
     I'm okay  
  


He looked at the message after it sent. He wasn't entirely sure it was true. He tucked his chin under the edge of the blanket.

      **Bitty**  
     I miss Shannon  
  


The dots appeared as soon as the message sent.

      **Jack**  
     I'm coming over  
  
      **Bitty**  
     No Jack your parents are in town. I'm fine  
  
      **Jack**  
     Be there in ten  
  


Bitty dropped the phone and buried his face in his pillow. True to Jack's word, ten minutes later a knock sounded on the door. He sighed heavily before he stood, wrapped inside his blanket, and opened it. Jack stood on the other side, wearing socks and sandals, blue plaid pajama pants, and a maroon Samwell Circus Troupe T-shirt. Bitty didn't get a chance to tease Jack for his ridiculous fashion sense before he burst into heavy sobs. Jack stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and then wrapped his arms around Bitty.

"It's okay," Jack whispered into Bitty's hair. "Lay down."

Bitty did and Jack lay beside him in the very small bed, their bodies pressed up against each other like they did when they shared a silk. Jack wrapped the blanket completely around Bitty and then secured it with his arms, and there they quietly lay until Bitty fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

      **Coach**  
      What're those ribbon things you fly on?  
  
      **Bitty**  
      Aerial silks dad  
  
      **Coach**  
      I'll have to look it up on the Youtube. It's cool.  
  
      **Bitty**  
      I'll send you some videos to watch  
  
      **Bitty**  
      It is cool  
  


It had been a few days since his parents visited, and while it would have been nice to get an apology from his mother, his father seemed much more cordial and engaged. He even sent pictures of the house and Bitty's old room, which hadn't changed much in four years, and asked if he could send any of Bitty's possessions up north. Bitty had no room for any of it, however Coach sent him a photo of a brown coat with wooden toggles that he wore when the family took a Christmas ski trip to Colorado when he was fifteen. It was the last vacation they took before he left. He stared at the picture, his mind racing with bittersweet memories, before he replied _Yes please_.

Bitty was getting ready for his first morning session with Jack since he'd been recast. Bitty's only request was to postpone their meetings to a reasonable time, since they only were meeting so early to ensure privacy, and it turned out that the studio was rarely occupied before lunch anyway. Bitty sat on his bed and scrolled through his Youtube history for a few videos to send over to his father when Jack knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a response. Bitty narrowed his eyes.

"I thought I locked that," said Bitty.

"Nope," said Jack. "You probably should since there's no doorman. You ready?"

"Let me just finish sending these off to my dad," said Bitty, and the sentence felt odd coming out of his mouth.

"To your dad?" Jack asked. "Is everything okay there?"

"Yeah," said Bitty, and he looked up at Jack. "Yeah, it is." Jack stood at the door, hopping impatiently from foot to foot while Bitty copied links into an email. "Calm down, Jack, this will just take a second."

"I have something for you," said Jack. Bitty looked up from his phone, confused. Jack carried nothing visible with him; he was wearing his usual compression tights under a pair of running shorts and a white T-shirt that looked very good on him.

"What is it?" Bitty asked.

Jack pulled a TicketMaster envelope from inside the pocket of his shorts and thrust it in Bitty's direction. Bitty opened the envelope; inside was a ticket for the traveling Cirque du Soleil show _Crystal_ , which would perform at the Garden on one of _Nature's_ off days.

"Oh, awesome!" said Bitty. "Thank you, Jack!"

"Don't feel special. I got tickets for everyone."

"Oh gee, I really don't feel special now, Jack. And here I am thinking you're giving me a belated birthday present or something," said Bitty with an eyeroll.

"It was your birthday?" Jack asked. "When?"

"I'm kidding. My birthday was weeks ago."

"Weeks?" Jack asked. "When!"

"May fifth, but calm down! I was still out with my concussion then; I wasn't thinking about my birthday. I was thinking about getting better. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make a big deal about it."

"This is unacceptable," said Jack. "Let me at least buy you dinner before the show."

"Fine. Is Lardo coming? Maybe she and Shitty can come with us."

Jack pursed his lips a moment before he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I got tickets for both of them. We can all have dinner. Let's go, the trampoline sequence last night was off a little and I want to work on it." Bitty put his computer down before he followed Jack out of the building and into the warm summer air. Just as they hit the street, Jack nudged Bitty in the arm with his elbow.

"Race me?" Jack asked.

"Only if you want to lose," replied Bitty. Jack sped off toward Faber and Bitty overtook him two blocks later.

Monday night Bitty met Lardo, Shitty, and Jack in the lobby of their apartment building at six o'clock. It sounded like most of the company would be going to the show but no one else had been invited to dinner. Jack smiled warmly at Bitty when he arrived, but didn't partake in hugs like Lardo and Shitty did. Bitty stood awkwardly next to Jack before he looked at Shitty's T-shirt. "I see you've already been to the gift shop," said Bitty with laugh. Shitty's T-shirt was too tight for him and read _Crystal_ with the Cirque Du Soleil logo on it.

"I wanted to make it seem like I was part of the gang," said Shitty.

"None of us are wearing Cirque merch, Shits," said Lardo.

"And you know our show isn't part of Cirque, right?" Jack asked. "We're not involved with them at all."

"I knew that," said Shitty, too loudly for someone who actually knew that.

"Where are we going for dinner?" Bitty asked, and he led the four of them out of the lobby and onto the street.

"Pizza," Lardo and Shitty said.

"Jack Zimmermann, are you actually going to break your superhuman diet and eat pizza?" Bitty asked with a nudge toward Jack. Jack smirked and nudged him back.

"One day only, Bittle."

The walk to the pizzeria was a pleasant one. The sun had yet to set so Bitty could walk in stride with Jack, Shitty and Lardo a few paces behind them, and look around the city. It was finally warm enough for short sleeves and shorts, so they took their time to walk a little less than a mile from the apartment building to the restaurant, which was just across the street from the Garden. Jack said nothing apart from his approval when Lardo, Shitty, and Bitty agreed to four different toppings on their extra-large pizza and an order of mozzarella sticks.

The mozzarella sticks came first and Bitty was chomping on one when Shitty changed the topic from bad food to the upcoming show. "So what's the gimmick with this one? Or is just another bendy-twirly-crazy show like the others?"

"This one's on ice," said Jack.

Bitty swallowed hard, having almost choked on his stick at the word _ice_ . "On ice?" he asked, his eyebrows all the way up on his forehead. "They're going to do an entire show on _ice_?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "I watched some promos for it. Looks pretty cool."

"I can't imagine doing what we do but also on ice," said Bitty. "I always wanted to be a figure skater, though. I remember I asked my mama if I could take lessons when I was a kid but I was already doing gymnastics and ballet so she told me I wasn't allowed to add something else on top of that."

"I think you'd be a good ice skater," said Lardo. "We should go to a rink and try it out."

"I'll just fall all over the place and this one will probably kill me if I twist an ankle," said Bitty and he thumbed over at Jack who sat in the booth with him.

"I wouldn't kill you," said Jack. "I would be very sad, though."

"Sad? Or mad?"

"Maybe a little mad," said Jack with a small smile. "How about you stick to the circus and leave the ice skating to the professionals?"

"Spoilsport," muttered Bitty before he stuffed another mozzarella stick in his mouth.

The pizza was greasy and amazing. Bitty sat with one leg up and tucked against his chest, turned toward Jack as he inhaled a slice the size of his face. The slice drooped over the side of his right hand so he planted his elbow on the edge of the table to steady it as he dove in for each bite. Jack was far more polite, both feet on the floor, elbows off the table, a napkin in one hand and a folded slice of pepperoni-sausage-bacon-mushroom pizza in the other. Bitty could feel grease dripping down his forearm; Jack carefully wiped his hands after each bite. The table was quiet, everyone eating and dissociating, until Bitty hit crust and Jack spoke up.

"Bittle. Wipe your face."

"Am I all saucy?" Bitty asked and he wiped his mouth with his wrist, which was full of grease. He felt it slide against his chin as he attempted to clear whatever prompted Jack to comment. Jack just rolled his eyes and handed Bitty another paper towel from the roll on the table. Bitty finally put his crust on the plate in front of him and wiped his mouth and hands, then turned to Jack for inspection. "Better?"

"No," said Jack. "Here." He grabbed another paper towel, folded it in his hand, and wiped off Bitty's cheek. Bitty looked directly into his eyes. This was not supposed to be a charged interaction. None of Jack's skin touched his, but the friction of the paper towel across his face could be felt from head to toe, settling in several places in between. Jack was gentle and deliberate but didn't linger too long. He tossed the used towel on the table with the others and picked up his own slice, now pulling up his right leg onto the booth next to him just as Bitty had moments before.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Jack," said Bitty.

"Always got your back, Bittle," said Jack. Bitty picked up the crust from his plate and glanced across the table. His face felt warm and he hoped he could pass the heat off as sauce rather than a blush, but it didn't matter. Lardo looked at him with a horrible grin on her face, and he looked down at the table rather than at her.

"Where we sitting, Jack?" Lardo asked. Bitty glanced up again and Lardo's gaze flickered over to Jack. Bitty took a large bite and ignored the rest of the table in favor of listening to himself crunch instead.

With forty members of the Samwell Circus Troupe attending the performance, Bitty assumed they were going to sit somewhere in the second or third level, but Jack's response of "close" was not an accurate depiction of how close they were actually sitting. He'd purchased the first four rows of a section to the left of the rink and when Bitty showed the usher his ticket, it turned out that his seat was actually rinkside rather than in the stands. He, Jack, Lardo, and Shitty were directed to a set of folding chairs on the floor.

The cast were already warming up on the ice, which surprised Bitty as soon they had entered the arena. He had not been to a Cirque du Soleil show in years and mostly remembered the choreography and some of the more impressive stunts, not the interaction of the performers with the crowd. They did not do this for _Nature_ ; he and Jack warmed up offstage and no one saw a performer until the curtain dropped. He knew most of that had to do with first impressions, as the art style always stunned and it was common for audience members to gasp upon seeing it for the first time. Pre-performance banter would just ruin the effect. It was an interesting change to see skaters practicing spins and jumps on the ice, and even more so to see some of them walking up and down the aisles performing exaggerated mimes for laughs.

A clown passed just in front of them, juggling four balls before taking a pratfall after another performer rushed by on the ice. Bitty laughed and snuck a glance at Jack, who had a smirk on his face. The clown scrambled on the floor for his balls, one of which had fallen under Lardo's chair. Lardo reached underneath her seat and held it out for the clown to take. The clown knelt in front of her and juggled the other three around Lardo's hand before nodding to her to throw hers in the air. She did and the clown successfully incorporated the fourth into the rhythm, but then they all fell again when he landed eyes on Jack, who sat next to Lardo. The clown pointed at Jack with an over-dramatic finger and matching expression of shock. He then looked past Jack at Bitty, and pointed dramatically again. Bitty glanced at Jack again; his smile had turned polite rather than amused.

The clown leapt to his feet and shook both Jack and Bitty's hands with emphasis, then gathered up his balls and trotted merrily away. Bitty watched; despite still acting, the clown quickly disappeared through the wall that split the ice in half. It looked like the wall was there to stay, a large gray castle surrounded by black curtains, separating backstage from onstage. If he looked up he could see rigging in the rafters; it didn't look like there were any silks set up, at least not in view, but there was definitely a rig for something to happen in the sky.

"Jack! You didn't tell me you were bringing the company to see us!"

Bitty stopped searching the sky and looked in front of him. Jack stood and shook the hand of a man in a suit who probably came running from backstage after the clown alerted him of Jack's presence. "I'm sorry, Sebastien. Didn't want to make a big deal about it."

"Who do you have with you here?" Sebastien asked. Jack turned to Bitty first and Sebastien's dark eyes sparkled with recognition. "Ah, I know who you are. You are Eric Bittle, no?"

Bitty stood and shook his hand as well. Sebastien was in his late forties, outside of his athletic prime but with perfect posture, and had a receding hairline. His accent was very French so Bitty was not at all surprised that this man was involved in the production of a Cirque du Soleil show.

"Bitty, this is Sebastien Soldevila, the show director," said Jack. "He and my father know each other well."

"Nice to meet you," said Bitty before he sat again.

"This is Larissa, an aerialist in the show, and this is her boyfriend."

Lardo's lips pursed tightly at the word _boyfriend_ , but all of them knew Jack wasn't going to introduce Shitty by name. After the introduction, Jack waved at the rest of the cast in the first few rows, all of whom waved back at Sebastien, who seemed startled that everyone was there. "Jack, you should have said something, I would have gotten you a box."

"We wanted to be close," said Jack.

"Either way, I'll have to repay you for purchasing so many seats. I'll come by after, bring you and your friends backstage," he said, gesturing to just the four of them. "You'll have to tell me what you think. I'm dying to know your opinion as performers in such a reputable production."

"You're very kind. We'll see you afterward," said Jack. Sebastien shook Jack's hand again and then waved at Shitty, Lardo, and Bitty before he headed back toward the black curtain. Jack sat next to Bitty, who raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect that. He and my father are not on great terms after everything that happened. A few years ago. With me."

"Oh," said Bitty.

"You don't need to come see him after the show with me but it's going to be weird, so I'd appreciate it if you would."

"Yeah, of course."

"Thanks," said Jack.

All of the performers began to head behind the curtain. Bitty felt unexpectedly nervous, but within moments of the beginning of the show, the worry seeped away. It was exhilarating to watch, the professionalism of the performers, the quality of the stunts, the depth of the production. He was less impressed with the story — the theme was occasionally lost to make way for the variety of acts, each of which held up on their own. The story seemed almost unnecessary, but it allowed the sequences to flow together and there to be a determinable beginning, intermission, and end. Some of the sequences were exciting in the way that he expected, including a balancing act with chairs that almost reached the rigging at the top of the stage and a straps sequence that was the closest act to what Bitty would have done were he in the show.

When the show ended, Bitty felt very odd and it took him until Sebastien's return to realize that he was disappointed. Everything was beautiful, from the costumes to the stunts to the ice itself, but every element could have been performed by one of the fifty members of the Samwell Circus Troupe. Samwell was a local company, long-running but unaffiliated, which Bitty took to mean of a quality that could not match a large-scale organization like Cirque du Soleil. However, upon watching an official Cirque production, he felt as if he just watched a less interesting version of _Nature_.

"Come on back, I'll introduce you to some of the team," said Sebastien after Jack shook his hand again. "Your friends are welcome to join, like I said."

"We've got to get back," said Lardo after she and Shitty stood. "Thank you for the invite. Your show was beautiful."

"Thank you, Larissa," said Sebastian. He shook her and Shitty's hand again, and then headed back into the stands to meet Ransom and Holster, who were waiting to walk home with them. Bitty and Jack followed Sebastien toward the curtain. Bitty felt nervous again, but he could feel the same energy coming off of Jack as they crossed the barrier from audience to backstage.

"You have to tell me what you thought," said Sebastien as soon as they had passed through the curtain.

"I thought it was great," said Jack. "Your balancers are on point, all of them."

"And the poles," added Bitty. "I really enjoyed the pole sequence."

"Your expertise is on silks, is it not?" Sebastien asked Bitty.

"Yes. I'm a little disappointed you didn't have silks in your show, but I suppose you can't incorporate them into every story."

"There are so many different types of performers that we employ and something had to give to keep the show to ninety minutes. Madeline!" Sebastien called after a woman who trotted by on skates, removing pins from her red wig. She stopped and turned back toward Sebastien. "This is Madeline, our lead Crystal. This is Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle, the stars from _Nature_."

"Oh, hi!" said Madeline, her expression switching from professionally polite to genuinely excited. "Thank you for coming! We were able to see your matinee before our show last night. It was absolutely fantastic!"

"Thank you," said Jack. "You were wonderful tonight too."

"Thank you," replied Madeline with a wave of her hand. "I have to ask, because a few of us weren't sure. Do you perform all of the stunts for the Man and the Sprite? I couldn't tell if you switched off between acts."

"No, we don't," Jack said with a shake of his head. "Bitty and I do the whole show."

"That sounds ridiculously hard," said Madeline.

"It's definitely a workload," said Bitty.

"Maddy, we won't keep you," said Sebastien.

"Thanks. I need to get this wig off. Nice to meet you!" Bitty and Jack waved at her as she ran off. Bitty was surprised at her speed while walking on a mat with skates still strapped to her feet. Sebastien introduced Bitty and Jack to a few of the other cast members, including the two other Crystals and the only aerialist. After meeting them all, Sebastien brought Bitty and Jack to the cafeteria and sat them down at a table.

"Madeline let the cat out of the bag, but we did get an opportunity to see your show yesterday. Jack, I had no idea. I've heard good things since the beginning of its run, but the last time I spoke to your father you were still coaching back in Montreal, so I never knew what a success the production you've put together is. How long has it been running?"

"Two and a half years," said Jack. "My show, at least. Samwell's been around much longer than me."

"Two and a half years and it's already that good," said Sebastien. "That's ridiculous. And Eric, you were just recently cast in your role, correct?"

"Yeah, I've only been with Samwell since January. I did silks and some dancing before Camilla left and I took over her role this run."

"Just this run? So you've only been in your role for, what, a week?"

Bitty nodded.

"That's ridiculous. The chemistry is perfect," said Sebastien. "Eric, you should be proud of yourself, and Jack, you should be proud of your show. It's easily something we could have put on ourselves. The quality, the stunts, the production value — you usually don't see that sort of thing from local troupes. You usually don't see a story like that from a local troupe."

"Thank you," said Jack. "I've been very fortunate to have good people help me with it. The production team has been perfect, the performers get better every run, and Bitty — Bitty has been wonderful since day one."

Bitty blushed hard, but it was clear Jack was boasting for Sebastien. They both knew that Jack did not find him wonderful on day one.

"You've come a long way, Jack. A very long way since we last met," said Sebastien. "I think the time away has done you well. You've just gotten better. And you, Eric, how old are you?"

"Twenty," said Bitty.

"To do something like that at the age of twenty is incredibly impressive. We get a lot of our performers straight out of college after they're done competing. You've got a few years on them. Listen, Jack, I have to wrap up with the crew, but I just want to thank you for bringing the company to see us. I think I can speak on behalf of the rest of the directors when I say that it's a treat to have you here. You should keep in touch."

"You should call my father," said Jack.

Sebastien's smile curtailed into a thin press of lips as the mood shifted. "I should," he said quietly. "It's been a long time. I'll see you out."

Sebastien walked them to the performers' entrance and shook each of their hands before he held the door open. When the door closed behind them, Jack let out a long, loud breath. "You okay?" Bitty asked.

"Yeah," said Jack. "That went better than I thought it would. The last time we spoke was not at all pleasant."

"He was very interested in you," said Bitty.

"And you," said Jack pointedly. Bitty rolled his eyes. "Bittle. When are you going to see it?"

"See what? Jack, I don't even compare to you."

"Do you have to? There were, what, thirty performers in that show? Forty? It's not a solo effort. Crystal wasn't on those straps alone. Everyone needs a partner, and I'm lucky that I have you."

Bitty stopped walking and looked up at him. Jack also stopped, much too close to him. It was still warm even though the sun had set, and the breeze was gentle and refreshing. The sounds of the city were still far away as they stood in an alley, away from the main entrance. The performers were still cleaning up, so they stood alone in the dark, just a few streetlights to illuminate them. Bitty could see the angles of Jack's face now that he was shaving regularly, the nearby light caressing his jawline, his cheekbones, his nose. He was absolutely perfect, but despite his closeness, he was still too far away.

"You have me, Jack," said Bitty.

Jack smiled, and so Bitty smiled.

"Good. I'll walk you home."

They turned and headed toward the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1) I promise Jack and Bitty are going to kiss at some point lol they're just idiots  
> 2) A few months ago I had the opportunity to see _Crystal_ and it was very good! I am with Bitty on my overall opinion of it, though. It's a great show, but it's not their best show. How _Nature_ plays in my head is much better.  
> 3) Sebastien and Madeline are real people involved with _Crystal_.  
> 4) If you, like Coach, want to watch videos of aerialists, I highly recommend following [womackandbowman](https://www.instagram.com/womackandbowman/?hl=en) on Instagram. So much of my inspiration for _Nature_ comes from them.


	11. Chapter 11

There was music playing in Faber when Bitty approached the doors. He was later than usual, having awoken early to assemble the dresser he and Jack went all the way to Stoughton to get from IKEA on their day off. The dresser took much longer than expected to put together and by the time Bitty realized he was late, he was already incredibly late, and he hoped when he opened the doors that Jack wouldn't yell at him. He knew Jack wouldn't — it had been a long time since Jack raised his voice in Bitty's direction — but he still cautiously peeked through the door to see what Jack was doing.

Jack was up on the silk in the middle of a performance that Bitty didn't recognize. The music wasn't part of the show, he could tell simply by the instruments included. It was a classical piece that Bitty might have heard a long time ago in gymnastics class, and Jack was doing something by himself that made no sense for his character. The Man did not have this sort of confidence or grace without the Sprite, and Bitty didn't see a point in adding this much extra to an already beautiful routine. It also didn't seem to have much structure to it, like Jack was making it up as he went along.

Jack dropped and landed upside down, facing the door. His eyes landed on Bitty, who sneaked in quietly during the routine. "Oh, hey, you're here," he said. He quickly unraveled himself and climbed back down to the floor, then shut off the music. "I thought you were going to blow me off."

"No, sorry, I was putting together that dresser we bought yesterday and it took way longer than I thought," said Bitty.

"Did it fit in your closet?"

"Yeah, just barely," said Bitty. "What're you doing here? This isn't for the show, is it?"

"No," said Jack and the expression on his face looked sheepish. Bitty raised an eyebrow. "Okay, don't look at me like that. I'll tell you what I'm doing, but you can't react in any way."

"In any way?" Bitty asked, his eyebrow just arching higher.

"In no way whatsoever. You just have to stand there and listen and then we can move on."

"Okay," said Bitty.

"I got invited to audition for Cirque."

"JACK!" Bitty yelled and Jack groaned. "Okay, okay, sorry. Not reacting. Can I ask follow up questions or are we moving on? You know what, I don't care. Is it for a new show or is it for a current show? Are you just going to general auditions? What does it mean that they invited you? Did Sebastien invite you? Does that mean you're going to get a part or do you have to be invited to any sort of audition for them? I've never even tried. I'm not nearly that good."

"Yes you are," said Jack.

"Are you going to even address the rest of my questions?"

Jack's response was to climb back up the silk and sit in the sky, facing away from Bitty. Bitty quickly grabbed another rig and pulled it over, then proceeded to climb up it and secure himself into a seat next to Jack about thirty feet in the air. He then hooked his foot on Jack's and spun Jack to face him. Jack was frowning.

"Please?" said Bitty with his best attempt to look adorable. Jack groaned again.

"If I tell you, will you stop doing that with your face?" Jack asked. Bitty nodded. "I don't know much, but yes, it was Sebastien. He said it's a new show and they're looking for a few people now before they hold general auditions next year. I don't want you to get excited and I definitely don't want anyone else to know. This is the first time they've allowed me to audition and it's very possible I won't get anything, so I don't want to have to tell people if nothing comes from this. It's a full audition so I need to send in tape and prepare for the whole thing."

"What's the whole thing?" Bitty asked.

"Standard auditions are two days long. First day is gymnastics and aerial skills, second day dance. I'm a little rusty tumbling on the floor instead of a trampoline, and dance… Well, you've seen me try to dance. I'm not good."

"You're a great dancer!" said Bitty. Jack glared at him. "You're a good dancer. I mean, you're not terrible. It may be your weakest element but your aerial performances are perfect and you can pick up steps when you need to. We can work on it together."

"You'll help me?" Jack asked.

"Of course! You woke me up every day at four-thirty until I was able to fly again. I can wake you up every morning at four-thirty to teach you how to dance. Let me help you for once, okay Jack?" Jack rested his head against the fabric above his left hand and looked at Bitty with heavy lidded eyes.

"Thanks, Bits," he said, "but it still might not amount to anything."

"Jack," said Bitty, "if they invited you to an audition then it must mean something. You're a fantastic aerialist and actor.  _ Nature _ is a success because of you. You're going to get a part. You deserve a part. You deserve the best part."

"I'm just… I don't want to leave anyone behind. Anything behind."

"We've all been waiting for the day when you move on from us," said Bitty quietly. "You're meant for something bigger than just this, Jack.  _ Nature  _ can go on without you." Jack stared at him and Bitty could see the tension as it built in his face. Bitty tapped Jack's foot again with his own. "C'mon, let me see what you put together so far. Once we get your tape we can work on the rest of it."

Jack had the bulk of a routine together, but it missed some key elements. "Your star drop," said Bitty. "Your star drops are beautiful. You can't possibly send in tape without one of those."

"But when can I do that?"

"Before your corkscrew. Don't cut out your corkscrew, that's always beautiful too," said Bitty. "Is there a time restriction?"

"Two minutes for this part."

"Eek, yeah, then just do those two."

They worked on Jack's routine for a half an hour until it timed a hundred and fifteen seconds, incorporating both of his drops and enough of the other elements to demonstrate his proficiency. Bitty stood across the room with the video camera on a tripod, watching through the viewfinder as Jack kept his expression soft while he became an extension of the silk, his arms and legs just another piece of fabric. He was fluid, moving his legs from a horizontal, extended belay to his perfect star drop, then climbed up effortlessly into a handstand before he tied himself into a corkscrew, which he fell into and opened his eyes, his smile wide, his expression open and welcoming. Bitty stopped recording before he clapped.

"Jack, there's no way you won't get a role," Bitty said.

"Bittle," said Jack in warning as he unwound himself.

"I'm serious," said Bitty. "The way you move, the way you transition… it's like you're flying. How you got out of that star drop and into your handstand? That was gorgeous." Jack approached Bitty and took the proffered water bottle from his hand.

"I stole that from you," said Jack. Bitty opened his mouth to protest when he realized that Jack was correct. He simply grumbled and picked up the camera before he led Jack across the room to the tumbling mats. The rest of the elements needed for the audition tape were easy to film, including basic gymnastics skills and tumbling passes that Jack just copied from the Act Three trampoline sequences. By the time Bitty heard others enter the building, they had everything they needed to film.

"Are you happy with this?" Bitty asked when he and Jack sat close on the edge of the mat, reviewing the footage on the viewfinder. Jack leaned into Bitty's space, his right arm behind Bitty's back, the corner of his chest occasionally touching Bitty's shoulder. Jack was so close Bitty could smell him, which wasn't pleasant because after hours of intense physical work, Jack reeked. When Bitty looked over, Jack's face was just a few inches from his, and he still had to suppress a full body shudder at the beauty in Jack's features. Sweat trickled out of his sideburns and along his jaw. It beaded on his forehead and along his nose. It glistened on the back of his neck. Despite the smell, the sweat was unnecessarily attractive, and with his body so close to Bitty's, it was hard to hide the reaction. Bitty's mouth was dry and he swallowed hard to try to compensate for it, which drew Jack's attention to his throat. Bitty's hair stood on end on his arms, which was the easiest to hide since Bitty was constantly cold, but he wore tights and those tights were the ultimate betrayal as his arousal built. Jack was right next to him, looking down between Bitty's legs at the camera he held there. There was no hiding it.

If Jack noticed anything, however, he kept quiet about it. "It'll have to do," Jack said, his voice almost a whisper. "I need to send it in today."

"It looks good, Jack," said Bitty. Jack looked up into Bitty's eyes, close but not so close that Bitty's vision doubled or he had to pick which eye to focus on. It was a comfortable distance, enough so Bitty could look into the expanse of blue and relax in it.

"Do you really think so?" Jack asked.

"Yes."

"Then it's good," said Jack.

"All righty, let's go shower before rehearsal — you stink," said Bitty with the gentle nudge of his shoulder into Jack's chest. Before Bitty could get up, Jack grabbed him tightly in his arms and rubbed his slimy cheek against Bitty's. "JACK ZIMMERMANN!" Bitty yelled but didn't attempt to shrug Jack away from him, marvelling in the stinky embrace for as long as Jack would hold him. He mentally counted and reached five — five sweaty, sticky seconds until Jack squeezed him and they parted.

"So tomorrow will you work on dancing with me?" Jack asked as they headed to the locker room. Jack's arm accidentally knocked into Bitty's a few times along the way.

"Of course," said Bitty. "I'll teach you the poppy dance that I used to do. You're going to look just darling in a poppy costume."

"I am not wearing the costume, Bittle."

"We'll see," said Bitty. Jack rolled his eyes before he held open the locker room door for him. Bitty breathed hard several times, attempting to control his physical reaction to Jack's presence before he took off his clothes and headed into a shower stall across the room from Jack.

That evening following their performance, Jack was still in the dressing room when Bitty was ready to leave. "I'm sure Lardo's waiting for me," Bitty said after he pulled a T-shirt over his head. Jack looked over and Bitty noticed his eyes flicker down to the hemline of Bitty's shorts, which did not reach his fingertips. "I'll see you in the morning... unless you wanted to come to the Haus with us?"

Bitty expected Jack's customary "Nah," but Jack appeared to be thinking it over until he eventually shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay."

"Really?" Bitty asked before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, might as well. If this thing does happen, who knows how much time I'll get with all of you before they make me leave," Jack said and sighed, his gaze far away. "I would miss you."

"And we'd miss you, Jack," said Bitty. "Do you know where this show is?"

"No. I know it's not a travelling show but I don't know where they're looking to plant it. I'll end up in Montreal for a while regardless — if they're not holding general auditions yet then they might not even have a story."

"D'you — d'you think they'll put another one in Vegas?" Bitty asked with difficulty; Las Vegas was so far away.

"Maybe," said Jack with a shrug. "Cirque does well there." Jack stood and followed Bitty down the hallway to the exit where Lardo waited, typing away on her phone. When she looked up she grinned.

"For reals, Jack?" she asked.

"For reals," replied Jack and he held out his fist. Lardo bumped it and they both drew their hand back for a mock explosion, which made Bitty purse his lips together to hide a smile. After they exited into the warm night air, Jack trailed two steps behind them as Lardo and Bitty walked side by side toward the Haus.

"Hey Bits, I saw this 'swawesome trick on Instagram. I don't think it'll work for the updrafts but I think you and Jack should put it in your routine next run." Bitty stepped closer to Lardo to look at her phone. An upside-down man, secured around the waist, held a woman in the slack of his silk. As he pulled the tail up toward him the woman spun, closer and closer to him until she hooked her leg onto his and released the silk altogether, hanging in the air with no other support apart from their interlocked knees.

"Huh," said Bitty. He turned around and showed the video to Jack, who nodded.

"Yeah, that's cool," he said.

"It could totally work for updrafts, though," said Bitty and he handed Lardo's phone back to her. "If Jack acts out of control on the way up and you hook his leg rather than having him hook yours, that would fit him being frightened more than anything."

"Nah, Bits, it's got to be a trust thing," said Lardo. "Look at how she looks at him when they get close. They want to be together and she hangs on his leg like an extension of him. Totally should be how you get him up to you the first time."

"I can see it," said Bitty.

"Maybe," said Jack. When Bitty looked back and caught Jack's eyes, he frowned. He didn't want to think of the possibility of not working on this sort of improvement without Jack at the other end of it, but at the same time, didn't want to think of a future on the other side of this audition where Jack remained with him.

They arrived at the Haus and Shitty, who was busy behind the bar, dropped everything in his hands and dove around the bodies waiting patiently for drinks to greet Jack just four steps inside the door. "Jackary!" Shitty yelled and leapt into Jack's arms, who caught him instinctively, much similar to when Bitty had jumped onto Jack's back the night he met Jack's parents.

"Hi Shits," said Jack. He attempted to lower Shitty to the ground but Shitty wouldn't go, so instead Jack just swung him back up and adjusted his grip on his friend. Shitty gave Jack a sloppy kiss right on his cheekbone. "Thanks."

"What did I do right in my life to have Jack Zimmermann in my bar today?" Shitty asked. "Is it my birthday? Lards, what day is it?"

"It is not your birthday," said Lardo.

"Can I put you down now?" Jack asked. Shitty reluctantly hopped out of Jack's arms but followed Lardo and Bitty to a table near the dance floor. Bitty, Lardo, and Jack sat and Shitty rested an arm on Jack's shoulder.

"Drink or water?" Shitty asked Jack.

"I'll have a beer," said Jack.

Shitty pointed to Lardo. "Beer?" he asked. Lardo nodded. "Beer?" he asked Bitty. Bitty nodded. "All righty my favorite performers in all of circus, three beers and one extra hug for my favorite." Shitty gave Jack one more long, loving hug before he headed back to the bar, which was filling with more patrons from the troupe. Bitty expected Jack to look embarrassed; Jack did not.

"It's supposed to be nice next weekend," Lardo said after Shitty left.

"Define nice," said Bitty.

"Seventies," said Lardo. Bitty nodded in approval. "We should go on the river or to the park or something. It's been a million years since I've been outside."

"I feel like I've never seen the city," said Bitty.

"We're going," said Lardo. "Jack? You want to come show Bits the city?"

"Next weekend?" Jack asked. Lardo nodded. Jack opened his mouth to reply but then shut it just as quickly. Bitty could feel his anxiety across the table.

"Aren't you going home next weekend? Isn't it your parents' anniversary or birthday or something like that?" Bitty asked.

"Yeah," said Jack.

"Boo," said Lardo. Shitty returned with three beers, which he set down in front of the three of them before he headed back to the bar. "Well, Bits, Shitty and I can show you the city instead. Boston's pretty chill. How was Atlanta?"

"Decidedly not chill," said Bitty. "Yeah, that sounds like a good distraction, though."

Jack suddenly stood and wandered away. Bitty watched him go, his beer in his hand. Apart from a few moments at the end of each performance, Bitty didn't often have the chance to see Jack in street clothes. It was an odd sight, to see Jack in a simple T-shirt and jeans. Both were ill-fitting on him, the T-shirt tight across his chest but loose around his hips, his jeans tight across his hips but loose from the knee down. His stage costume and his workout clothes were all considerably tighter than what he wore there in the bar, and it left Bitty's mind drifting to times when he could see the outline of Jack's torso or the knobs of his knees.

"Bits," said Lardo and Bitty looked over at her.

"Hmm?" he said.

"I asked you a question," she said, a teasing grin on her lips.

"Oh, um, yes?" Bitty replied with blind hope that he was responding correctly.

"Yes o'clock? You want to leave at yes o'clock?" Lardo asked. "He just went to the jukebox. He'll be back in a second. You don't need to stare at him all night."

"I'm not staring," said Bitty and he hid his embarrassment behind the neck of his beer. Lardo laughed the way she usually did, soft and breathy. The speakers overhead began a boppy tune, something Bitty vaguely recognized from oldies stations, and Jack returned. He set his beer down on the table and looked at Bitty.

"Come dance with me," he said.

Lardo's subsequent laugh was neither soft nor breathy, but she quickly covered up her outburst with a coughing fit, although Jack paid her no attention while he awaited a response. Bitty nodded and set his beer on the table as well, then followed Jack around the corner and onto the deserted dance floor.

"Now remember that I'm terrible at this," said Jack quickly.

"I'm sure you're not terrible," said Bitty but when they both began to move, Bitty could see Jack's reservation. Bitty placed his hands softly on Jack's shoulders. "Loosen up, Jack, we're just messing around." Jack's shoulders relaxed and they swayed back and forth. They were alone for only a minute; Ransom and Holster joined them first, followed by half of Bitty's former team from his brief stint as a dancer on the poppy sequence, which seemed to relax Jack now that they weren't the only people dancing. A genuine smile crept onto Jack's lips, which crept onto Bitty's lips, and so Bitty let himself go, which caused Jack to pause and watch, his eyes wide.

"Okay how do you do that butt thing?"

Bitty held back his giggles. "Butt thing?" he asked, only moderately succeeding in keeping the laughter out of his voice.

"Yeah. Your butt did...something." Bitty turned around and shook his hips to the side with the beat, then back to the other side on the next. "Yeah, that."

"Jack, I'm not doing anything with my butt. I'm just moving my hips back and forth, like you but with more intent."

"Oh. Well, it looked good," said Jack and when Bitty turned around Jack's cheeks were bright red. "I don't mean your butt looked good. I mean the dancing looked good. You just do this more naturally than me."

"What you're doing is fine, Jack," said Bitty. "We're just at a bar. I doubt they're going to take you to a bar and ask you to dance to the Doobie Brothers or whatever the hell this is."

"It is the Doobie Brothers!" said Jack with a bright smile. It was dark on the dance floor but Bitty would be able to see the shine in Jack's eyes for miles.

"Oh Lord, you're adorable," said Bitty. He stepped forward and placed his hands loosely on Jack's hips. "Here, you do it." Bitty guided Jack to the left, and then to the right, until Jack lost his rigidity and began to flow naturally when he understood what Bitty was doing both in his hips and his feet. When Bitty looked up into Jack's eyes he realized how close they were. Jack was still smiling, but his grin faded while they looked at each other. This wasn't the same as dancing with Chowder all the way back when he first joined the company. That was silly and fun, Chowder oblivious to the moves while Farmer laughed at him, and it was one of the first times Bitty was able to forget that he was grieving. This wasn't silly. This was serious: Bitty had his hands on the hips of a man unable to reciprocate his love, who would soon be leaving him for good. He stepped back.

"See? You've got it," Bitty said.

"Thanks, Bits," said Jack, and they returned to swaying back and forth as the song ended and something else began, something more modern and typical of the music Bitty would hear when he and Shannon went dancing at nightclubs in Atlanta. Jack's shoulders stiffened and Bitty didn't correct him, and they stayed on the floor dancing politely together, the moment gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see the trick that Lardo shows Bitty and Jack [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/BMFV9A0BQgb/).
> 
> And the song that Jack puts on the jukebox is [Long Train Running by the Doobie Brothers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP_NE4XZGAc).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all - I was hoping to get this fic completely posted before a Major Life Event happened for me personally, but that Major Life Event happened sooner than expected, so I'm posting the rest of the fic now. It's not as polished as I would like, so please point out any typos and I will fix when I can.
> 
> Also if you've noticed the chapter count increase, I decided chapter 13 worked best split up to a chapter and epilogue, so that's why there's 14 now.

Jack and Bitty spent every morning of the subsequent week in the studio. Jack was by far the most concerned about the dance and rhythm audition, although they did practice a few tumbling passes and gymnastic elements that Jack didn't normally use in the show. By the fifth day Jack had learned all of Bitty's poppy routine and could do it with passable grace, although Bitty found himself much more amused seeing Jack attempt to flit around the stage while he was still learning rather than when he had it down.

The night before Jack's flight to Montreal, the two sat together in their dressing room, removing their stage makeup in silence. The show had gone well, as it had every night since it began, and now Bitty was beginning to feel the routine of it — rehearse, dress, perform, undress, go out or go home — which was a nice constant that had not been present since joining Samwell in January. This was not their normal end-of-the-day silence, however. Bitty could feel Jack's anxiety radiating off him.

"What time do you leave tomorrow?" Bitty asked, although he knew Jack had told him this at least once already.

"My flight's at ten," said Jack. "I check in at the audition tomorrow night but it doesn't start until Monday."

"And you'll be back Wednesday sometime?"

"Yeah. Wednesday night," said Jack quietly.

"And you'll know by then?"

"I think so," said Jack.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes," said Jack. He threw a tissue into the garbage and took a long breath before he looked at Bitty through the mirror. "Are you nervous?"

"About what?" Bitty asked.

"The others. Whiskey and Holster," said Jack. "I'm missing the show Tuesday and Wednesday."

"It's just two shows," said Bitty with a shrug. Jack continued to look at him. "Yes. It's not really the same if it's not you. It's...it's easy with you."

"Definitely won't be easy learning a whole dance routine without you," said Jack.

"Yeah and I doubt anybody at Cirque will laugh at your shitty  _ grand jetes _ ." 

Jack laughed and his face relaxed considerably. "Thanks, Bits. Are you going out with Lardo again or what are you doing tonight?"

"I'm going to the Haus like usual. Why? You want to come?"

"Do you mind if we just go through my aerial sequence one more time?"

"Your aerial sequence?" Bitty asked. "Jack, that's the best thing you do, why are you worried about that?"

"I just… we haven't spent any time on it and I want to make sure I can do it."

"You've been doing it all week on stage," said Bitty, "but yes. Yes, we can go to Faber and run through it another time. Anything else you want to run through again?" Jack shook his head. "Okay. Let me just get the rest of this paint off and we can go."

Twenty minutes later they entered Faber. Bitty turned on lights and Jack pulled over a rig. Bitty sat down on a balance beam while Jack stared up at the silk, breathed determinedly, and then began his short sequence, the same one they filmed for his audition tape.

Bitty felt overwhelmed immediately; not only were each of Jack's movements technically perfect, they were graceful and enthralling. From the moment his fingers touched the fabric to his final corkscrew, where he fell upside down, his expression soft, Bitty felt in awe of him. Jack was built to be in flight and Cirque Du Soleil would be foolish to not employ him. There was no doubt in Bitty's mind that Jack would come home with a part, if Jack came home at all.

Jack opened his eyes and Bitty cleared his throat before he said, "That was perfect."

"Really?" Jack asked. "You were not very nice when I learned your dance sequence. Be critical."

"You were perfect, Jack," said Bitty. Jack unraveled himself but instead of crossing the room to sit with Bitty on the balance beam, he climbed back up the silk and secured himself into a seat in the air. Bitty pulled over another rig and did the same, sitting with Jack twenty feet off the ground.

"Do you want to go over anything else?" Bitty asked.

"No," said Jack.

"Then I think you're ready," said Bitty.

"I don't want to go," Jack said suddenly and Bitty didn't bother to hide the surprise on his face; it didn't matter anyway since Jack determinedly did not look back at him.

"Why the heck not?" Bitty asked. "You've always wanted to do this, Jack, and this is something you were meant to do. What I just watched? That's what you're meant to do. I know you're nervous but —"

"It's not just nerves," said Jack.

"Think about what you'll get to do with them," continued Bitty. "You're getting to start a brand new show. You said it yourself, they probably haven't even written yet. You might get to help write an actual Cirque show. That's worth more than anything you have here."

"But there's more than just that here," said Jack. "Yeah there's this show, and it's grown into more than what I ever thought it could be, but  _ Nature _ is full of talented and creative people who can make it into something better than I can. I'm not worried about handing that off. I'm worried about everything else. Everyone else."

"No one expects you to be here forever, Jack," said Bitty quietly. Jack's eyes finally lifted from the floor and connected with Bitty's.

"I'm worried about you," Jack said.

Bitty could feel his heart begin to thump in his chest. Jack looked at him how he did earlier that week at the Haus, when Bitty held his hips while they danced, how he did when they stood in the alley behind the Garden, how he did the day Bitty sat in the air in Jack's living room while pie baked, how he did the day they first performed the scene in front of the rest of the troupe.

"I'm okay, Jack," Bitty whispered.

"Are you? I think about you all the time. I worry about you all the time. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Jack. I'm okay."

"I think Shannon would be proud of what you've done here."

Bitty blinked back tears and nodded. "I never thought I'd be able to get through that. She was all I had when I left home. I never was able to connect with the other people in Atlanta. When she died I felt like I had nothing left and I had to start all over again."

"I wish you hadn't come here the way you did," said Jack. "I wish she hadn't died and you hadn't gone through what you did, but I'm happy you're here."

"Me too," said Bitty.

Jack looked down and hooked his foot around Bitty's to pull him closer. Bitty's heart was still beating hard in his chest; he could hear the rush of it in his ears, could feel the ache of it against his ribs. He tightened his grip on the silk in his hands as Jack pulled him closer and closer until their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss. It was quiet in the studio, Bitty's heart calming with Jack's touch, but neither made the attempt to take this further than what it was. Jack let go after just a few seconds and Bitty's eyes fluttered open to see Jack's smile, radiant and beautiful.

"You're going to make me fall out of the sky," Bitty whispered.

"I've got you," said Jack, their feet still connected at the ankle, Jack's hand on Bitty's waist. "Do you want to get down? We can maybe go to my place?"

"Okay," said Bitty.

They unraveled themselves and climbed down to the ground. The euphoria after their kiss and the throbbing of Bitty's lips were beginning to subside, making room for worry and confusion. As they climbed Bitty sneaked looks over at Jack, who seemed to do the same, and each connection brought forward a surge of happiness and an accompanying smile, but without Jack's gaze Bitty thought way too far ahead — if Jack didn't come back, what did this mean? Were months of feelings toward this boy reciprocated, or was Jack just nervous?

Their feet hit the floor in unison. Jack reached for Bitty and slid his arm around Bitty's shoulders. Bitty in turn placed his arm around Jack's waist and they walked toward the door, a mixture of excitement and doubt that didn't settle as they left Faber and headed into the warm night air. It was just two blocks to Jack's apartment from Faber, but two blocks meant two stoplights where they might need to wait to cross the street. At the first Bitty looked up at Jack as cars passed in front of them, his face lit up from above as well as from the passing headlights, lighter and lighter and then dark, lighter and lighter and dark again. Bitty stared at him, and Jack stared back, until a pause in front of them drew their attention away from each other and back to the road. The walk sign changed and they crossed the street, still holding each other, down the next block and to another stop.

This time when Bitty looked up Jack swooped in and kissed him again. Bitty let out an "eep" of surprise at his sudden motion that quickly subsided into the ecstasy of the kiss. The sounds of downtown Boston were always present, but kissing Jack on a street corner made everything else disappear. His lips were soft, exotic, like a delicacy Bitty had only heard of until this moment and now finally was able to try. It was absolutely perfect, but then a car honked and they jumped. The walk signal was on again and the people waiting for the light were glaring at them through car windows.

Jack kissed him again in the elevator, pushing Bitty up against the wall and pressing their whole bodies together. This wasn't the magical kiss shared in the sky, or the subsequent embrace that transported them out of the city and into a world that was just their own — this was heavy, heady, and Bitty could feel it between his legs. Suddenly he couldn't go another moment without more. The doors opened and Jack grabbed Bitty's hand, out of the elevator and into the apartment. Jack's steps were hurried and Bitty kept up, eager to go wherever Jack led him.

They stopped at the side of Jack's bed. It was unmade, the sheets bunched up with the comforter, the pillows askew. It was well lived in and Bitty, despite his frequent fantasies about being in it, felt suddenly apprehensive to touch it. "We don't have to," whispered Jack in his ear. "We can go back to the living room and talk."

"And kiss?" asked Bitty.

Jack pressed his lips against Bitty's neck just under his ear. They were soft but the electricity they created surged up and down Bitty's body to the point where the living room seemed like a ridiculous idea. Jack kissed him lower, down near the crook of his neck, and Bitty's neck extended in response, his mouth watering.

"Let's stay," Bitty said. A soft moan sounded from the inside of Jack's throat, faint enough that Bitty could barely hear it. Jack accompanied the moan with a firm grip on Bitty's hips, which he directed forward. Bitty moved with no hesitation; once his knee hit the mattress he bent forward and crawled onto it, then turned over and allowed Jack on top of him. Jack's fond expression back at Faber had been replaced by breathless want, and the desire there only made Bitty more excited to do this.

He, however, had no idea how to do this. "Jack," he said, his voice low, "can you talk to me?"

"About what?" Jack asked, a small grin on his lips. "The weather? It was hot today."

"No, about what we're doing here. I'm super nervous and this whole thing is new to me and I —" Jack pressed his lips onto Bitty's and Bitty calmed, relaxing his muscles and sinking into the mattress. This held the same delicacy that accompanied their first but instead of lasting a few seconds, Jack continued to kiss him and Bitty lost his nerves in it. Several minutes passed with no further progression, until Bitty let go and fluttered his eyes open.

"Better?" Jack whispered.

"Yeah," Bitty replied. "How do you always know how to calm me down?"

"Because I know you," said Jack, which made Bitty uncontrollably smile. He felt goofy, his teeth exposed and his mouth so wide, but Jack looked blissfully happy and that was enough to forget his embarrassment. Jack kissed him again, just briefly, both of them still smiling, and then Jack's hand trailed the length of Bitty's body, from his nose (which he then kissed), to his lips (which he then kissed), down his neck, over his shoulder, back to his ribs, along his waist, and settled at the hem of his T-shirt. Jack looked into Bitty's eyes as he lifted the shirt and touched the skin underneath, which caused Bitty to jump. Jack laughed and so did Bitty.

"Ticklish? Or just excited?" Jack asked.

"A little of both," said Bitty.

"Can I take this off?" Jack tugged at the T-shirt and Bitty nodded, so it was swept up and off. Bitty reached around Jack's back and pulled his T-shirt over his head, threw it onto the floor, and then took a moment to look at what was in front of him. He'd seen it several times at this point, both through the material of a painted leotard and bare, like this, as Jack dressed and undressed in their room before and after shows, before and after morning practices, or after a shower. Bitty finally took it to the next step, after all those months of wanting, and placed his hands on Jack's chest.

"Are you just going to push me or…?" Jack teased and Bitty looked back up into his eyes.

"Don't make fun of me, Mr. Zimmermann, I have been waiting a long time to do this," said Bitty and Jack laughed. Bitty slid his hands around Jack's back and pulled him back down, their lips connecting again. Jack shifted in between Bitty's legs and Bitty felt his erection for the first time, hard against the inside of Bitty's thigh. He had no idea if Jack could feel his, but Jack more than likely could feel his.

Jack seemed to notice his pause and pulled away again. "You okay?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," said Bitty, and the embarrassment returned, hot on his face. "I can just… feel it."

"Do you want to touch it?" Jack asked and Bitty bit his lip, his face so warm, but nodded. Jack reached behind his back, took Bitty's hand, and then guided it between his legs. Bitty's fingers wrapped around the bulge in Jack's thin shorts, very little separating him from the real thing. Jack's eyes closed and his face relaxed at Bitty's touch, but Bitty felt like he was going to explode. This was so new and so sudden and something that played like a dream, but there it was in his hand and this was actually happening.

He let go just as quickly as he touched it, sliding his hand up Jack's stomach and then back down inside the fabric, so he could stop fantasizing and touch it for real. He took it in his hand, the skin soft but the muscle hard, and then stroked it all the way down and all the way back up. This was much different than his own.

"Oh my God, Bits," muttered Jack and his face collapsed into Bitty's neck, not kissing, just resting.

"Is it good?" Bitty asked, desperate for a yes.

"Yes," Jack replied and Bitty's whole body inflated with happiness. "Can I - can I take my shorts off?"

Bitty's hand stilled on Jack, who removed his face from Bitty's neck. Jack looked apprehensive but Bitty just nodded, removed his hand from inside of Jack's shorts, and they rolled over. Jack's hands were on his waistband immediately, but Bitty met him there and pulled them down and off of him, then threw them onto the floor with their shirts. Bitty paused, kneeling at the foot of the bed, his eyes roaming from Jack's legs up to the thick and full erection between them. Bitty's breath hitched; he'd felt it in his hand, but it was completely different seeing there in the open. He forced himself to keep looking up; he wouldn't want Jack staring at him, so he tore his gaze up to Jack's stomach and chest, which lifted from the mattress as Jack propped himself up on his elbows. When Bitty looked in his eyes he could see Jack smiling again, an eyebrow up in question. Bitty had no idea what to say; it would have been ridiculous to say "Wow," but that was the only thought in his head, apart from the aching between his own legs in response to the body in front of him.

He crawled forward, his hand extended, and took hold of Jack again. Jack lost the support of his elbows and fell backward with his head on his pillow. Bitty looked back at his hand, pumping up and down on Jack's cock, then glanced up just once at Jack, whose eyes were closed, before he opened his mouth and gave it an uncertain lick. Jack whined, which was encouraging, so Bitty licked up it again and then took it in his mouth. Jack let out a quiet, breathy, "Fuck." Bitty bobbed up and down, keeping tabs on Jack every few strokes, but Jack had been untethered and floated somewhere that Bitty couldn't follow. Bitty felt in control of the situation for the first time since they arrived in the apartment, confident in the pleasure he was giving.

It was only a few minutes, not long enough for Bitty to feel tired, when Jack's hand slipped into Bitty's hair and Bitty pulled off, his hand replacing the motion his mouth had taken. "What?" Bitty asked with a leap of panic in his stomach despite knowing exactly what.

"I'm going to come," said Jack, his voice still quiet. Bitty propped himself up on his left elbow and he watched Jack's face as he continued to stroke Jack's cock quickly with his hand. It was only three pumps before Jack's eyes squeezed tight, his breath stilled, and he came. Bitty stroked him through it, like he would himself, and then let go. Jack began breathing again and opened his eyes for the first time since Bitty started to go down on him.

"Was that okay?" Bitty asked.

"Fuck, Bits, that was so good. Come here." Bitty crawled up Jack's body and their lips connected again, Jack kissing him with considerable more force than before his orgasm. Jack flipped them over so Bitty lay on his back again, then Jack's lips left Bitty's and kissed down his chin, his neck, and over the center of his chest. Bitty's breath began coming in short bursts and he could see his stomach rising and falling irregularly as Jack kissed a line to his shorts.

Jack paused at his waistband and looked up. His skin was blotchy and his hair a mess but he looked so endearing as he waited for permission. Bitty nodded fervently, so Jack pulled down Bitty's shorts, freeing his erection, and then threw them on the floor. Jack spread open Bitty's legs and rested in between them before he held the base of Bitty's cock in his hand.

"Oh my God," Bitty moaned, already tense with Jack's firm grip. He'd seen this exact image before, vividly, in his thoughts and in his dreams while in his bed in his apartment, his own hand gripping himself instead of Jack's. This wasn't a new image for his mind, but this was real, Jack was actually touching him, and Bitty was going to ruin it by coming way too soon. "Oh my God, Jack, just calm down a second."

Jack grinned and Bitty wanted to both smack him and kiss him. "I think you're the one who needs to calm down, Bits," Jack said.

"I know, I know, and I really, really want you but this is going to be over in ten seconds if you do anything else." Jack waited patiently, still holding Bitty by the base of his cock, but then he kissed the inside of Bitty's trembling thigh. "Ohhhh my God, Jack."

"No kissing?" Jack asked.

"No kissing. Just…" Bitty fell back onto the pillow and put his hands over his face, the visual now too overwhelming to see. He took a breath but it was much too quick and unproductive so he deliberately slowed his rhythm. Jack was perfectly patient with him, not touching or kissing or moving until Bitty removed his hands from his face. "Okay. Okay, go ahead."

Jack took no time at all to slip Bitty's cock into his mouth and the warmth and moisture and suction caused Bitty's eyes to fly open. "Oh my God," he said again. 

Jack quickly let go. "Do you need another minute?"

"No, there's no use for that anymore," said Bitty. "Just keep going. I'll let you know."

Jack's mouth returned to his cock and began sliding up and down. Bitty keened, his back arched, and his right hand extended down into Jack's hair, which he grasped between his fingers. Jack kept going, but Bitty was already at the brink of his orgasm. He breathed again, hoping to stave it off just a little bit longer, but the attempt was fruitless. It was glorious and overwhelming and more than Bitty had thought it would be, so he just said, "Oh my God, I'm coming," and decided not to be embarrassed about how quickly this was over.

Jack didn't pull off and when Bitty opened his eyes Jack had finally let him go and was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh my God," Bitty said yet again, "did you just swallow?"

"Maybe," said Jack.

"Well now I feel bad for not swallowing," said Bitty but Jack crawled up his body and kissed him tenderly.

"Don't," Jack whispered. "How are you?"

"I don't know yet," said Bitty.

"Lay down with me," said Jack. He rested next to Bitty, who turned onto his front and placed his head next to Jack's on one pillow. Jack began to trail his fingers up and down Bitty's bare back. Bitty's eyes fluttered closed; he'd felt a lot of things since their first kiss, but at the present, he mostly felt sleepy.

"I'm going to miss you," Jack said.

"I'll be waiting for you," Bitty replied, his eyes still closed, focusing on the feel of Jack's featherlight fingertips on his skin until they stopped. Bitty opened his eyes and looked directly at Jack, who frowned. "Jack. You're going to be amazing."

"But if I stay —"

"I will be so disappointed in you," said Bitty. "Go. This is what you were meant to do." 

"What about you?" Jack asked.

"I'll be here when you return."

"That's not what I meant," said Jack and he pulled Bitty up against him, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed. There they rested until Bitty, happy and satiated, fell quickly asleep. 

 

***

 

"Bits. Bits, wake up, I gotta go," said Jack. Bitty grumbled and opened his eyes. Jack knelt next to the bed, fully clothed, but he had not lost the affection in his eyes. Bitty looked at the time; it was eight o'clock.

"Oh," said Bitty. He sat up. At some point during the night he'd been covered with Jack's blankets and he felt secure and warm, something he never felt in his own bed. He wanted to lie and bask in it, but Jack's hand on his back was insistent. Bitty propped himself up with an elbow. "Where are my clothes?"

"Everywhere," said Jack with a sneaky grin. Bitty grinned back at him, then Jack leaned forward and kissed him firm on the mouth. Bitty respond with force but Jack quickly let go of him. "No, I gotta go," he said. He picked up a shirt from the floor and threw it at Bitty, who caught it and put it on before he leaned over the other side of the bed to try to find the rest of his clothes. A minute later he was dressed and met Jack in the kitchen, who already had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry for just kicking you out like this, but I woke up later than I thought," said Jack. "I was hoping to wake up with you."

"No, you've gotta go," said Bitty. "Good luck. Come back to me and tell me all about it."

Jack stepped forward and kissed him again. Bitty didn't care that he had morning breath, that he looked and smelled a disaster. Jack was kissing him, Jack had kissed him, Jack had spent the night with him, and this was more than he ever expected would happen. Jack let go too soon and led Bitty out of the apartment. They stopped at the elevator, where Bitty paused and Jack kissed him one more time.

As Jack and his fond eyes, his sneaky smile, and his warm arms disappeared behind the elevator doors, the weight of what had just happened came down on Bitty all at once. Jack was on his way to a life-changing audition, and left Bitty with more questions than answers. They'd just spent a beautiful night together, and Jack held him tenderly, brushed his skin and kissed his nose and lamented their separation, but they indeed separated with just a few more kisses. There had been no discussion about what this meant and no promises of what would come after the audition, which left Bitty more empty than the elevator when he called for it again. He descended one flight, opened the second door on his left, and plopped face-first down onto the floor.

"You okay, Bits?" asked Lardo from the kitchen. The smell of breakfast filled the air and Bitty recognized the familiar sizzle of bacon in a hot skillet. He didn't bother looking up or even opening his eyes. His nose and forehead squished against the hardwood floor, his arms plank against his sides next to him. He only grumbled in response.

"You look a mess, bro," said Shitty. Bitty assumed he was the cook from the distance of his voice; Lardo sounded like she'd gotten up from the island and stood right next to him.

"You do," said Lardo. Bitty felt a gentle kick to his side. "You also reek. You totally got laid last night, didn't you?"

Bitty turned his head to the side and opened one eye; Lardo knelt next to him, a wicked grin on her lips. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face so it was squished against the floor again. Lardo let out a brief laugh and patted him on the back before she walked away. "Nice, bro."

"Deets, man!" said Shitty. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Oh, Lord," said Bitty.

"Shits, come on, it was Jack. Who else would it be? Right, Bits?"

"Oh Lord," said Bitty again and he curled onto his side in the tightest ball his limbs could muster, his face buried in his knees. He did not want to talk about something he himself didn't understand, and while he knew his behavior was a giveaway that something wasn't right, he didn't expect Lardo to figure it out so quickly.

"Okay, okay," said Lardo. "You don't have to talk about it —"

"Yeah, I'll call Jack as soon as this bacon is done," said Shitty.

"No, Shits, let it be," said Lardo. "Everything okay, Bits? He wasn't a dick about it, was he?"

"I can't," said Bitty into his knees. "But he wasn't a dick."

"Nice," said Lardo. He felt the greasy smack of bacon on his head and reached out a hand to accept it. Lardo didn't ask any more questions.


	13. Chapter 13

Bitty worried about Jack through the remainder of his absence. All Jack had said since they parted was a text that read  _ I'm sorry I had to leave like that. I wanted to say a better goodbye. I'll let you know how it goes. _ Bitty had replied with encouragement and wishes of luck, but there had been nothing else. Furthermore, the knowledge that Jack was in Montreal auditioning for Cirque Du Soleil and Bitty couldn't say a thing to anyone was a difficult secret to keep. As far as the rest of the troupe was concerned, Jack had gone home to celebrate his parents' anniversary, but anyone finding that odd could google Bob and Alicia Zimmermann and discover that their anniversary was not for another six weeks.

The show on Tuesday night felt wrong as soon as Bitty arrived. The dressing room looked the same but everything about it had an unfamiliar air to it with the knowledge that Jack would not be there. Bitty changed into his costume first and just as he sat down to start his makeup, the door banged open and Holster entered, holding a large iced coffee from Starbucks in one hand and his usual Act Two costume in the other, since Holster was only taking over Jack's part in Act Three while Whiskey did the rest. 

"Hey bro!" Holster said loudly and held out his cup toward Bitty, who took a moment to realize that Holster was not offering him coffee and was instead asking for a fist bump. "This room is sweet! You got your own shower and everything? Oh man, I'm spoiled. I can never go back to the other side now."

"I don't think Ransom would like that very much," said Bitty as he picked up his brush and began to paint his face.

"Ransom can suck it, you've got your own bathroom," said Holster and he disappeared into it. Just as soon as he shut the door he opened it again. "Don't tell Rans I said that. He'd kill me."

"Oh, I'm telling him immediately," said Bitty and Holster chucked a spare roll of toilet paper at Bitty before he closed the door again. When Holster didn't return in a reasonable timeframe, Bitty's eyes narrowed and he shot a look at the door.

"Are you pooping in my bathroom?" he called.

"FUCK YEAH!"

"Ugh, I miss Jack," Bitty said to his reflection.

Connor Whisk arrived while Holster was still in the bathroom. "Hi Whiskey," said Bitty. Whiskey looked over and tipped his chin up in greeting, but otherwise didn't react to Bitty presence and didn't even look up when Holster finally left the bathroom. Holster shut the door behind him.

"Don't go in there for a while," he said and Bitty groaned. "Hey Whisk." 

Whiskey looked over and nodded to Holster. "Is it hot in here?" Whiskey asked. He wandered to the thermostat.

"No," said Bitty.

"Nah, man," said Holster. They watched as Whiskey turned down the thermostat several degrees.

"You nervous?" Bitty asked Whiskey.

"No," said Whiskey.

"Excited?"

"Sure," said Whiskey.

Bitty didn't attempt any further conversation after that, and he and Whiskey prepared themselves in silence while Holster changed into his first costume behind them. Once Bitty finished, he stood up and headed to the door. Bitty's eyes drifted to Jack's costume which hung, untouched, on the rack opposite the vanities. The audition should have been over already, unless for some reason it went all day and all evening. If Bitty were there, he would be excited for day two's dance auditions, but knew all of Jack's worry was about this. It may not have been Jack's strong suit, but he and Jack had prepared the best they could with the time they had. 

He opened the door; there was no "he and Jack," not officially at least, and he couldn't start thinking that way before they actually talked to each other.

Bitty felt nervous, not just for Jack but for his own performance. However his nerves were for nothing; Whiskey may have been taciturn offstage but was a professional on it and Bitty felt completely comfortable with him once the music began. It was much more difficult to fall in love with Whiskey than with Jack, but Bitty did the best he could. Whiskey and Holster switched out for the Act Three trampoline sequence. Bitty had fun bouncing and flipping with Holster, who happily held and twisted with him in the air, bouncing away from each other and back together over and over.  It was a good performance and after the three removed their makeup, Whiskey disappeared without a word and Bitty and Holster met Lardo and Ransom at the stage door.

"You big shots up for a drink?" Lardo asked.

"Oh you bet!" said Holster. "Rans. How'd you like my transformation into a sprite? Was it magical?"

"It was something all right," said Ransom with an eyeroll.

"It was magical, Rans, and you know it. Don't be jelly that I get my own private dressing room —"

"Yeah, about that," said Bitty. "Maybe tomorrow you get ready not in my dressing room."

Ransom and Lardo started laughing as Holster brought a hand to his chest in his indignation. "Eric Bittle! I am your co-star!"

"You're one of my co-stars. And you stunk up the whole fucking room," said Bitty. Holster stared at Bitty through his rimless glasses and then turned back to Ransom, his entire face red.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen, Holtzy," said Ransom and Holster aggressively kicked a rock off the sidewalk and into the street. 

"You did good tonight with Whiskey," said Lardo to Bitty. "He's a good understudy for Jack in those first two acts."

"Yeah, he's fine," said Bitty with a shrug. "He's not Jack, though."

"No, he's not," said Lardo and she nudged him with her elbow. Bitty rolled his eyes and broke stride with her to stand next to Ransom instead. Ransom tossed an arm around Bitty's shoulders; Bitty walked close to Ransom as he continued ribbing Holster for his big head.

The Haus was a good distraction. By the time the show was over the audition had to be over too, but the only messages on his phone were from his parents in their new group chat; his mother sent a photo of the savory souffles she'd made at cooking club that evening, and Coach replied  _ they were delicious.  _ Bitty send back a quick reply praising her skill but didn't have the patience to get into a new conversation with them. Talking to them was getting easier, but it still took a lot out of him.

Dex and Nursey were halfway through a game at the dart board when they arrived. Bitty stopped at the bar for a beer before he and Lardo took the board next to them while Ransom and Holster argued over the music selection on the jukebox. Everything about it felt familiar: Ransom and Holster always argued over music; Dex and Nursey played darts almost every night; once Chowder and Farmer arrived they'd dance or play pool. This was what it would be like if Jack never came back. Bitty would still have these people and it would be fine.

He threw a dart and it missed the board completely, plinked off the wall, and fell to the floor. Lardo started laughing behind him. Bitty closed his eyes and shook his head, then aimed carefully and threw the dart. It missed again but at least lodged into the black space outside the target and didn't fall on the floor.

"Bits, what the fuck," said Lardo, no longer laughing.

"This is a warm up round," said Bitty and he took a sip of his beer before he threw his final dart, which landed in the center of the number 20, still outside the target. "Dammit."

"You better warm up fast," said Lardo, "because you know as soon as Holtzy comes over here he's going to start gloating and I want to take his ass down."

He eventually started hitting the board, but Ransom and Holster annihilated them and Holster started yelling loudly, his hands up in the air, while Lardo stared at the score and shook her head. "I think I'm just going to go home," said Bitty. 

"What, no rematch?" Holster asked. "Are you admitting defeat?"

"Yeah," said Bitty dejectedly. 

"Does that mean I can get ready in your dressing room tomorrow?" Holster asked.

"That's still a no," said Bitty. He set his empty bottle on the the table and turned toward the door. Lardo grabbed him before he started out.

"You okay, Bits?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm all thrown off my game with Jack gone. We can play darts again Thursday after he's back."

"He okay? Have you guys talked since, you know, then?"

"Yeah," said Bitty. "Yeah, we talked a little. I just..."

"Miss him?" Lardo supplied. Bitty nodded. "Christ, you two are going to be so gross to be around, aren't you?"

"We'll see," said Bitty and he left without another word. A ten minute walk later he entered his apartment. He'd cleaned it that morning as a means to distract himself and finally, after six months, had gotten rid of the final box. All of his clothes were inside the closet, either hung up or in the dresser. The dishes were done and put away in the cabinets. The bed was made, Senor Bunny tucked in against the pillow and Shannon's tie blanket folded neatly at the foot. Bitty ran his fingers along the edge of the blanket to smooth it out before he entered the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Five minutes later he tucked himself into his bed, all of the lights extinguished apart from the screen of his phone. He stared at his conversation with Jack. Bitty wanted desperately to text him, to ask how the audition went because surely it was over by now, but at the same time he didn't want to know the outcome. Either way it would change everything.

Bitty focused on the middle line of Jack's last group of texts instead.  _ I wanted to say a better goodbye. _ The message stirred a response in between his legs as he thought about what kind of goodbye that could have been. His thoughts had kept drifting back there, every time he was alone and sometimes when he wasn't, about the feel of Jack in his mouth, about the feel of Jack's mouth on him. He let out a heavy sigh and dropped the phone on the windowsill before he tucked his hand under the covers and took a hold of himself in a poor substitute to having Jack with him.

The following day Bitty went to the studio alone in desperate need of a distraction. Jack still hadn't texted but his audition was definitely over by now. Bitty set up a rig and began Jack's routine. On paper the transitions sounded difficult, but he was surprised how easy and natural the movements came as Bitty worked through it. The transition from the star drop to the handstand was most familiar, since it was taken directly from the Sprite's sequence, but he hadn't done a corkscrew since he'd been a poppy petal. When he landed upside down he opened his eyes and stared at the door, hoping Jack would be there watching. He wasn't. 

Bitty looked at the floor beneath him; he was still about seven feet from the ground. He stared at it. In January he couldn't look at a distance like this without thinking of Shannon and what had happened to her, but he was alone in Faber, dangling from the ceiling with nothing but fabric wrapped around his ankles to hold him in place, and it felt right. The shakes were gone, the clamminess in his hands was gone. He could hang there and look at the ground and the distance between him and it no longer held her presence. He pulled himself up back to his feet and took hold of the silk in his hands, unraveled himself, and lowered back to the ground. Before he returned to the air he clung to the silk and thought about her again; he'd found his love because of her, and he'd found this group of people because of her. He'd found Jack because of her. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and hopped back up to continue practice. 

Jack did not text before the show. Jack did not text after the show. Bitty declined a drink at the Haus and went home to dwell. Before he left, Jack said he'd only miss Tuesday and Wednesday, but now it was after the Wednesday show and Bitty was doing everything he could to keep himself from busting into Jack's building and pounding on his door to ask for an outcome.

He entered his apartment and was washing dishes when the tears came. It was possible that Jack was gone — he got the part, they wanted him to stay in Montreal, and he would never return. It would have been nice to get a final text at least, saying goodbye and sorry it didn't work out, but instead Bitty cried silent tears while scrubbing crusted raisin bran from the rim of a bowl because Jack didn't have the decency to at least give him closure.

He had just placed the bowl back in the cabinet when the door flung open and Jack barged in without knocking, grinning wildly, slightly sweating, breathing hard. Bitty forgot all of the ridiculous things his brain had thought over the course of the last three days and jumped into Jack's arms. Jack caught him and Bitty kissed him, the force of it causing Jack to step back to steady himself. Bitty kissed and kissed him, the tears returning to his eyes, and Jack kissed him back just as intensely, his arms strong as he held Bitty in place.

They finally let go and Bitty looked down at Jack, who stared up at him with shining, brilliant eyes, the look on his face radiant. "Did you get it?" Bitty asked breathlessly.

"I got it," Jack said.

"Oh my God, why didn't you text me?"

"I wanted to tell you in person. My flight just got in and I ran here as fast as I could." 

"Jack," Bitty said and kissed him again, his lips, his face, his neck, everywhere Bitty could reach while still in Jack's arms.

"Bits," said Jack, and Bitty stopped kissing his neck. "As much as I want you to keep kissing me — and I really, really do — I think we need to talk about this."

Bitty pouted because he knew Jack was right. Jack sat on the bed but Bitty made no attempt to move off his lap. Jack ran his hands up and down Bitty's arms, their gaze still connected. "Where is it?" Bitty asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"New York."

"How far is that? It's not far, right?"

"It's about four hours," said Jack. 

Bitty frowned. "Do you — do you still want to do this?"

Jack pulled him closer, their bodies flush together, Jack's face now in Bitty's neck. Bitty held him tightly back, as if letting go meant letting go forever, and he didn't want to do that. "I'm sorry I took so long," Jack said. "I should have kissed you months ago."

Bitty felt the tears in his eyes. "I could have kissed you too. I didn't."

"It's going to be weird for a while," said Jack, "and I'll actually be in Montreal for the next few months working on the show. It sounds like we won't even go to New York until next year."

"Next year?" Bitty asked. "That's so long from now. And Montreal's even further than New York, right? It's in a whole different country."

Jack pulled back and looked into Bitty's eyes again. He was smiling, and Bitty didn't know how he could possibly smile as they discussed a future separated by so much distance. "I think I have a solution. Can you put your hand in my back pocket?"

Bitty felt the grin before he even moved his hand, but he slid it down Jack's back and began groping the outside of his shorts. Jack laughed; Bitty made absolutely no attempt to put his hand in any pockets. "Bits. That's not my pocket."

"Hmm," said Bitty and he slid his hand into Jack's waistband. "Is this it?"

Jack laughed softly and shook his head. "Nope. Definitely not." Bitty slid his hand in further and gave Jack a squeeze before he complied with the actual request and put his hand in a pocket. There was a thick piece of paper there and Bitty extracted it. He sat back on Jack's lap, no longer flush against him, and unfolded it. It was square, had the official Cirque Du Soleil logo in a banner across the top and underneath the number 15 in large, black print. At the very bottom, in smaller black letters, was  _ Eric Bittle - Aerialist _ . 

"What is this?" Bitty asked, unable to control the high pitch of his voice as it came out of his mouth.

"They asked for referrals," said Jack. "Open auditions aren't until next year but they'll hold referral auditions this fall. I told them about you. I had a copy of the show with me and made them watch your performance. Sebastien backed me up when I said they should consider you. I can't guarantee you'll get a part but I could at least get you an audition." Bitty stared at the number in his hands until his eyes glazed over with tears. Jack brushed his hair off his forehead, drawing Bitty's attention. Jack's face was soft, sweet, and full of love. "I know you said you don't think you're worthy of this because you don't compare to me. You're right. You don't. You are so much better than me. You are so different from me. What you do, Bits… it makes me a better performer. It inspires me to do what I know I'm capable of doing. This is what you're supposed to do, Bits, and I can't move on knowing that you're here doing less than what you're capable of. Come with me. Let me write you a beautiful show." 

"Oh my God, Jack, I love you," Bitty said and then he clamped both of his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide. Jack stared back at him, just as surprised, but recovered before Bitty did. His expression softened, his eyes drooped, and he caressed Bitty's back with his fingers.

"Do you?" he whispered.

Bitty just nodded, his hands still over his mouth, tears blurring his vision. Jack gently pulled each hand away and held it in his own, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against Bitty's.

"I love you too," Jack said.

Bitty closed his eyes, basking in Jack's presence, feeling Jack's hands in his, Jack's forehead against his, the sound of their breathing and the whirlwind of emotions that had gone through him since Jack arrived, since he left, since they first met and even before, and wondered how he managed to be as fortunate as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if Cirque actually asks for referrals, but we're going to pretend that they do. From my research the audition is a two-day process, though, although that might vary dependent on the type of role.


	14. Epilogue

It wasn't an easy transition between Jack's audition and Bitty's. Like Jack, Bitty didn't want to tell anyone that he could be leaving. The show adjusted with Jack gone and ticket sales did not fall when Whiskey and Holster split the lead role. Several things needed to change, however, since Jack's face was on the cover of the Playbill and all of  _ Nature's _ advertising. It didn't make sense to reprint programs halfway through the season, so Jack's face continued to appear until hiatus, when they would be printed with the updated cast.

Cirque's referral auditions took place during hiatus, which was fortunate as Bitty didn't need a formal excuse to miss multiple days of rehearsal; he simply said he was going to visit Jack and nobody questioned it, as almost everyone took time off during hiatus to visit family or take vacations. Bitty took an extra few days surrounding the audition to be with Jack, since the two had not actually seen each other since Jack left in July.

Bitty stared at the entrance from the car, at the glass doors embossed with the logo, and couldn't bring himself to go inside just yet. They had been idling there for over a minute now, Bitty just staring without moving. A hand on top of his drew his attention and he looked over at Jack, who sat behind the wheel of his father's car.

"You gonna go in?" Jack asked, a gentle smile on his face.

"Jack, I'm so nervous," said Bitty. Jack squeezed his hand.

"You're going to do great. You did everything perfectly yesterday."

"But that was yesterday." 

"I've been talking you up a bit to George and some of the others. I don't have a say in who they pick but I know the people who do. I'm not worried." 

"Yeah?" Bitty asked. "You didn't talk me up too much, did you? I don't want to disappoint anyone."

"George went to Boston and saw the show before I left," said Jack. "I don't think I even needed to say anything."

"Oh Lord, Jack, why doesn't that make me feel better?" asked Bitty.  Jack pulled him as close as he could with the center console between them. Bitty rested his head on Jack's chest and felt Jack kiss the cowlick in his hair.

"You'll do great. Everything you do is great. I love you."

"I love you too, Jack." Bitty pulled up and kissed him, and then sat back in his seat. "Okay. Okay, let's do this."

"You've got this, Bits," said Jack. "I'll pick you up after." Bitty nodded once and then finally opened the car door. Jack waited for him to enter the building, so Bitty stopped at the door and waved before he opened it. Just as he crossed the threshold, he felt his phone buzz twice in his pocket. He pulled it out.

      **Coach**  
     Good luck today, son!  
  
      **Mama**  
     Good luck! We love you!  
  


He had yet to return to Georgia to see them, but knew that day would come when he would have to stop pushing it off. They'd been kind to him, Coach more than Bitty ever would have thought, and he was warming back up to his mother. There was work to be done there, and he would do it, but first this. First Cirque.

It took two more breaths and a self-affirming head nod before he opened the second door and stepped inside. The lobby was bustling with activity. People in various states of dress, all carrying a gym bag or suitcase, stood in lines to register at a table with four employees flipping through papers. Bitty joined the end of the short line marked "A - D."

"Eric Bittle," he said to a woman seated at the table. She returned to the front of her list and searched for his name, which she then checked off.

"Okay, Eric, you'll go through this door behind me and sit in room A with the other aerialists. Make sure your number is visible at all times — where is your number?" She flipped through a stack of numbers in front of her when Bitty realized what she was looking for.

"Oh, I have it already," he said and unzipped his hooded sweatshirt to reveal the number Jack had given him months ago.

"Oh, you're that Eric," she said and Bitty tried to hide his blush without being obvious about his attempt to calm himself down. She handed him a folder with his name on it. "This is your schedule for the next two days. There will be three cuts throughout the process, which are on the schedule. If you do not make the cut, you'll be asked to leave immediately. Sign these before you go in."

Bitty thanked her and signed several waivers before he walked around the table and into the studio. He was not the first one in the room, which wasn't a surprise given how long he dawdled outside before finally entering, but the vast number of athletes spread around the studio was terrifying. He could tell just from the way that they warmed up that some of these were dancers or balancers, who were not his direct competition, but his eyes settled on a group of a dozen men stretching exactly the same way he would.

The folder had a map of the facility along with the schedule and a FAQ sheet, which he glanced at before he searched the map for the locker room. He stopped there to drop off his belongings and shed his outer layer of clothing. He then returned to the room A and found an empty spot on the mat among the rest of the aerialists and began stretching.

The first day was Bitty's biggest concern. He knew he was better than most gymnasts at dance and wasn't worried about demonstrating those skills on day two, but it had been a long time since he was on rings, and he worried that years of time away would point out how rusty he'd become.

As he stretched on the mat, a man and a woman approached them and just their presence commanded attention. Bitty looked up, his nerves culminating in a rumble in his stomach. The man spoke first. "Gentlemen, my name is Tom. This is Georgia —"

"Call me George," said the woman. Bitty looked at her and immediately felt intimidated. She looked friendly, clearly an athlete herself, but the knowledge that she would directly judge him after she’d seen his show was terrifying. 

"— and we'll be with you these next two days through your audition. We have both been with Cirque for over ten years and we are excited to see what you all bring to the table today. Cirque du Soleil is an exclusive company and although we're looking for four dozen people to bring with us to New York to develop our show, we are look for four dozen of the right people. We'll test you in a number of different ways these two days. If you don't have the style, the look, or the strength to withstand ten shows a week, we'll send you home."

"Today's audition will have two parts," said George. "First we'll test your gymnastics skills, we'll break for lunch and decide the first cuts, and then if you make it through we will move to the aerial skills this afternoon. You all should have prepared a floor routine and a ring routine. We'll go to the floor first."

Bitty's number was his order of audition; there were twenty of them in total. He had to wait for fourteen other men to complete a two-minute floor routine before he could begin his. It was disconcerting to watch; everyone else was nervous, many people missed their landings, and the fourteenth landed so awkwardly in his final pass that he couldn't walk back to his seat and was immediately cut. He had tears in his eyes unrelated to pain as he hobbled away with the support of one of the trainers.

The floor routine Bitty prepared was good, albeit safe. It was much different to tumble on the mat rather than on a trampoline, but he stuck his landings and never went out of bounds. The hardest part of his routine was the knowledge that George and Tom were grading his every move. 

His ring routine was not as safe. This was much closer than what he would do as an aerialist, but the gymnastics side of rings was not at all the same as what he did on a daily basis back home in Boston. He could see his limbs quivering as he held poses, both his arms as he held a T-pose and his legs as he held them in front of him in pike position. He felt frustrated looking at them; he held himself up like this every day. He wasn't shaking from muscle strain; he was shaking from nerves. He hoped George and Tom couldn't see, or if they could, he hoped they would know the difference. 

They must have, because out of the twenty he was one of fifteen moving on to the aerialist audition in the afternoon. He felt relief long enough to eat lunch, but then he remembered all that was in front of him and began to feel nervous again. He took several deep breaths as he stared at his lunch tray; the hardest part was over. If he could learn the Sprite's routine in three weeks, he could do anything. He could tell just from the floor routine that he was the best dancer of the group. He just needed to make it to day two.

Both Jack and Bitty agreed that the judges would recognize Jack's aerial routine if Bitty tried to use the same one, so over Skype they developed another routine that highlighted Bitty's best moves. According to Jack it was his pirouette and his belays, so Bitty added in a windmill at the end, which he enjoyed the most out of every one of the drops. It was difficult to know after Bitty's feet hit the floor if George and Tom enjoyed it, but someone back on the floor bumped his fist and said, "Great job," so at least one other person felt it went well. 

By four o'clock he'd learned and successfully executed a new silk routine and was one of eleven moving on to day two. He met Jack outside, exhausted, and collapsed into the front seat of the car. Jack leaned over and kissed him.

"Do you want to know what they're saying about you or no?" Jack asked.

"Absolutely not," said Bitty. "I don't want to talk about it at all. What did you do today?"

"Top secret show stuff," said Jack and Bitty groaned. "I'll tell you all about it when you're part of the cast." Bitty groaned again.

"Jack, sweetie, you're not helping," said Bitty.

"Okay, okay. Are you good though? Really?"

"I'm fine. Really. Just...still nervous. There are a lot of really good aerialists in there." 

"And you're the best dancer out of all of them," said Jack before he pulled out of the lot and onto the road back toward his parents' house. "My mom wants to know if you want to go out for dinner or stay in."

"Ugh, stay in," said Bitty, worn just from the idea of having to leave the house for dinner.

"That's what I figured. My question for you is do you want to have dinner with my parents or do you want to be alone?" Jack asked, looking over at Bitty with a smirk on his lips. Bob and Alicia had been gracious hosts the past two days that Bitty had been in Montreal, but he had to admit that they'd been seeing far too much of each other. Bitty smirked back; he might have been exhausted, and he might have been nervous, but his and Jack's time alone had been very limited.

"Alone, please," Bitty said.

Jack moved his hand from the steering wheel and placed it on the inside of Bitty's thigh, which made Bitty squirm. His skin buzzed the rest of the ride to the Zimmermann house. After Jack parked in the garage, he looked over and said, "Go up the back stairs. I'll tell my parents you're beat and just want to go to bed. I'll be up in a minute." 

Bitty nodded but before Jack could even remove his seat belt, Bitty vaulted over the the center console and into Jack's lap. Jack had enough time to let out a "Whoa!" before Bitty kissed him. Jack replied with equal vigor, his hands starting on Bitty's waist before quickly sliding south. A muted moan escaped Bitty's lips; he held Jack on either side of the face but wanted more, but the driver's side of Bob Zimmermann's car had no room. Bitty reluctantly pulled away.

"Hurry," said Bitty, and he gave Jack one more kiss before he exited the vehicle through Jack's door.

Bitty was face-down and thrumming on the bed when Jack entered just five minutes later. Bitty turned over and looked up at him, who closed the door but stayed next to it, his eyes gazing over Bitty in workout clothes. He'd showered after the audition but changed back into his compression tights and T-shirt before leaving the building. More than anything he wanted Jack to be the one to take them off his body, but Jack was very far away. The room was so large; Bitty had expected it to be, but he also expected it to hold more charm. It was clear Jack had not lived here in years.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" Bitty asked.

"Looking at you. It's been a long time."

Bitty smirked. "I've been here two days."

"And I barely got to look at you," said Jack. He took a step forward, then another, and then knelt in between Bitty's feet at the foot of the bed. "Before Camilla left, when you were still just a dancer, I'd fall out of my corkscrew in the second act and see you offstage waiting to come on. I'd just look at you, and sometimes I'd miss my cue. You were very distracting.”

"I thought you were mad at me," Bitty said as Jack leaned over him and then began to plant soft kisses on the exposed line of skin between the waist of his tights and the hem of his rucked-up T-shirt. Jack kissed him three times there, each winding up Bitty's breath until his whole body exploded in shivers. Jack crawled up Bitty's body to look him in the eyes.

"I wasn't mad at you. I loved you."

"Jack…" Bitty whimpered and Jack delicately kissed him.

"Let's get this off, okay?" Jack asked. Bitty vehemently nodded and let Jack remove his T-shirt first, followed by his tights. When Jack removed his own shirt, Bitty propped himself up on his elbows and understood why Jack stood at the door and just looked at him. Jack let Bitty look his fill, and then Bitty motioned him forward. They kissed again, the delicacy of their actions gone. Jack removed his pants and rested between Bitty's legs again, both of them aching with want, gripping each other's skin and kissing hard. 

Jack's hips thrust forward and Bitty felt Jack's erection slide against his own. He moaned into Jack's mouth before they continued kissing. They'd discussed this on the phone, voices low and breath stuttered, what they planned to do when they were finally together. They both agreed it would be a bad idea to attempt penetrative sex before or during the audition; Bitty had two very difficult days where he needed his body, and any soreness that would inevitably occur, regardless of how careful they were, would not be worth the risk. However while Jack rubbed their hips together, Bitty wanted desperately for Jack to be inside of him. What Jack did to him felt wonderful, it set his nerves on fire, and he was happy, but he wanted more, and just wanted his audition to be over so he could come back here, look into Jack's eyes as they connected their bodies and expressed to each in more than words that they were so in love.

Jack's hand reached between their bodies and took hold of them, pumping fast, both nearing completion. It was only a dozen or so strokes before Bitty's back arched, he bit his lip hard, and started to come. Jack wasn't far behind, his orgasm reaching him just as Bitty's finished, and then they looked into each other's eyes and grinned widely.

"Better?" Jack asked.

"So much better," said Bitty. Jack gently kissed him before he sat up, his hands on Bitty's hips.

"You hungry?"

"Oh Lord, I am starving," said Bitty. Jack smiled.

 

***

 

The following day was more nerve-wracking that the first, which was more than Bitty expected it to be. Dancing would be easy and he knew he could do well at it, but there was just one more cut and he carried the weight of it with him throughout the day. The routine took two hours to learn. Bitty had it down in ninety minutes but there were people, after they took a break for water, who still had difficulty with some of the steps, and he opted to stay on the floor to work them through it rather than take a break. The routine itself was just three minutes long, and after the break they'd perform it, and after the the performance they would know their outcome. 

"Like this. Circle your hand around your head while you bend your left knee to the floor," explained Bitty to an exasperated boy with sweat pouring out of his temples. Out of anyone this boy needed to rehydrate the most, but he hadn't stopped redoing the routine since they called for a break. Bitty watched as he pulled his fist around his head out of sync with his knee lowering to the ground. "Count it out in your head. On three your knee should be on the ground. One, two, three — knee on the ground." It didn't work, no matter what approach Bitty tried, and it wasn't at all surprising at eleven-thirty when the overly sweaty boy was sent home and only eight of them were asked to join a group of women on the main floor for the final cut.

Bitty sat on the mat with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees as George, Tom, and two others from the women's group stood at the front of the mat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to Montreal and participating in the first auditions for our new show debuting next year," George said. "For those of you I haven't gotten to meet yet, I'm Georgia Martin, creative director for this project. If you haven't noticed, we've been very selective in not only who we invited to this audition, but in the cuts we've made along the way. We're looking for an elite group of athletes to develop this program before we move it to New York, and we can only take a few with us down that road.

"You've all shown grit and resilience to make it this far, but we do need to make one more cut. We'll separate you into two groups. One group will stay here in Montreal and develop the show. The other will join our pool and may have the opportunity to join us once we move to New York, or we may keep you in mind for one of our existing shows. Either way, I want to be the first to welcome you all to the Cirque du Soleil family."

Bitty let out an "Oh my God," as the rest of the athletes on the mat broke into gasps, laughter, and applause. He knew being part of the pool was something to celebrate, and he accepted a hug from the person next to him, but he didn't want to just be part of the pool, waiting in the wings to be called some day in the future. He wanted to stay in Montreal with Jack.

George separated them into groups without designating the outcome of each. Bitty was called to the side with just one other man and three women, which was terrifying. He'd seen the talent by his side over the past two days. If it were up to him, every person left would get a role. He stood with the other four, his breath picking up, and waited for direction. George nodded to his group first.

 

"You can head down the hall to the first room on the left," she said. Bitty took in a sharp breath and held it as he followed the others out of the room. As he passed George, she offered him a wink, and he let out his breath all at once. Her ensuing smile didn't help calm his nerves and he headed down the hall, hoping Jack was on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Come by my [tumblr](http://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/) and say hi :)


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